Encores
by thedeadflag
Summary: A collection of one shots, varying in length, based within the Glee-verse. Mostly fluffy, also light/moderate angst in slightly smaller doses. Rated M for future chapter content. Will add relevant characters to this listing as I write.
1. Accidents

_50 Words in 30 Days Keyword:_ **#39 "Oops"**

* * *

The first time was absolutely an accident. There Rachel was, strolling through the halls of McKinley, too busy considering the plethora of group numbers she'd practiced for glee club's upcoming invitationals performance to notice that there was a parting sea of people up ahead. Had she been paying attention to the commotion, perhaps she would have understood that either Quinn or Santana were having a bad day because people were literally scrambling off to the sides. Sure, most weren't visible, as Rachel was reaching a corner in the hallway that one of the cheerleaders was approaching, but normally she was a fair bit more perceptive due to her self-preservation instinct. Sometimes everything just took second priority to glee.

So when one of the nearby students rushed out of the way, pushing her toward the middle of the hall to clear a path of escape for himself, Rachel was annoyed and stumbling, hoping she wouldn't fall. But then Santana Lopez barreled right into her, tripping over her, and knocked them both down.

Santana had been the fortunate one, catching herself somewhat so that her hands and knees were on the ground; Rachel, on the other hand, was underneath Santana, back pressed flat on the tile and trying to catch the wind that was knocked out of her. She expected that the student body populating the halls would stay to watch her be humiliated, but it seemed like Santana had been having one of her 'murderous rage' days, so pretty much everyone just ran. Rachel understood the urge to not be a key witness to a murder, it was a precarious position to be in, even if she would have preferred some help in preventing said murder.

"Dwarf, if you're not groveling for mercy in the next ten seconds, I'mma send you back to your damn hobbit hole with broken knees, understand?" Santana growled at her as she leaned back, and Rachel found herself in quite the predicament. She wasn't certain how to handle people with fiery tempers and aggression issues, and her mind was hazy as she considered what she learned in a National Geographic book back in fourth grade. Deciding it would be foolish to show submission, for fear of being completely mauled by the girl on top of her, Rachel maintained eye contact with Santana. It wasn't that she was confident, so much as she was simply apprehensive of what would be done to her if she didn't.

"Santana Lopez you will do no such thing." Rachel struggled out, deciding she needed to inform the girl that murder was simply a bad decision for the both of them to commit to. "You will slushie me twice more today, because there's time for it. Then you'll slushie me three times a day for the rest of the week. Maybe toss me in a dumpster or two. I could even see one of your minions spray-painting 'fagspawn' on my locker like they did in freshman year if you really feel like twisting the knife. You're not murderous, Santana, you're cruel and malicious, and you prefer a living target to torment. I've dealt with your abuse for long enough to know I'm not about to be murdered or kneecapped, so please just be accurate next time you hand out punishments to people wholly undeserving of them. It at least gives a reasonable expectation of what I'll have to endure, while leaving room for you to be creative and surprise me with some new technique or act to humiliate me." She rambled, not breaking eye contact with the girl that was basically straddling her hips.

Santana kept glaring at her for a few seconds after Rachel had stopped speaking before standing up fully. "Is that so, hobbit?" Santana asked with a sort of venomous playfulness, dripping in both amusement and disdain. It was quite an admirable tone given her reputation and actions, and Rachel was sure that she sort of wanted to learn that in order to bolster her acting skill portfolio in the future. "You're telling me what I'm going to do to you?"

"I'm simply laying out what options you have. You cannot physically mutilate anyone here at school, or murder them. There wouldn't be any point considering the legal risk of both activities, so it's much more efficient to torture me with actions that effectively go unpunished by administration, as well as a healthy amount of fear tactics to get into my mind in an attempt to scare me." Rachel rambled again, trying to hide her nerves, but Santana had always been the perceptive one. She was like a shark smelling blood in the school, and could easily sniff out vulnerabilities of anyone she passed by. It was something of a gift, and Rachel felt that if Santana was dedicated and motivated enough, she could become a fantastic lawyer.

Santana walked slow circles around Rachel's fallen self, her eyes never leaving Rachel's own mocha pair. "And are you scared now?" It was a simple question, but Rachel really had to consider it. She had always been a little scared of the cheerleader ever since last year when she started, but it was more of a feeling that whenever Santana was around, something bad would happen, not necessarily something frightening or scary. Truly, it was the same feeling she got with any of the cheerleaders. It wasn't something she felt was fair, and after a long day of being pushed around and attacked, she found that she was kind of fed up about it all.

"I'm worried that I'll have yet another set of ruined clothes by the end of the day. I'm worried that one day my teachers won't accept that I've been slushied anymore, and that missing a part of class will stand on my record of attendance despite the truth of the matter. I'm upset that someone willfully pushing me rather forcefully into you makes this somehow my fault in your eyes. I'm angry that every day I go home and my fathers always excitedly ask how my day was, and I have to lie to them about it unless I want to break their hearts. I'm disappointed that the school's power hierarchy ensures that I'm punished for being a small, talented girl with two dads who will escape Lima and be successful in New York. I'm disappointed in _you_, Santana, for just following along like a mindless pack dog when I know you're better than that. But am I scared of you?" Rachel ranted, feeling that passionate flame of drama fully lit within her chest. "No. I just find myself exhausted by you cheerleaders and your antics. So just get on with it so we can both find better uses for our time."

Santana, for her part, merely appraised her, the flaming rage in her eyes all but extinguished in exchange for an amused curiosity. "Whatever. Next time you decide to recite War and Peace, leave me out of it. You'll have company after each period for the rest of the day, dwarf." The cheerleader spoke wearily, walking away with a lazy wave over her shoulder.

Rachel sat up from where she'd been splayed out, the period having long since started, though fortunately she had been on her free period for the day. Even though the halls were empty and there were no witnesses to what she'd done, she couldn't help but smile. _I stood up to Santana Lopez!_

Sure, she knew she'd be getting slushied a few more times that day, far more than her emergency packs could accommodate, but she'd deal with it. She always did.

* * *

The second time didn't seem like much of an accident. Rachel never understood why gym class was always filled with sports, when they could simply be exercising away in a number of manners; Coach Lorenzen had split the class into two teams for an impromptu rugby game. It didn't matter that almost no one in class understood how to play rugby, of course.

Rachel had long since been prepared for such occasions. She'd always committed to gym class in order to keep herself in peak physical condition, but it also meant that she needed to know how to perform in many of the sporting events in order to not humiliate herself or put herself in danger of injury.

The game was messy, even after the coach took ten minutes to explain the basics which were immensely simple to understand in Rachel's mind. When the game got underway, she put herself in position as the left wing, and watched as much of the rest clumsily tried to figure out where they needed to be; only Santana and Brittany, who set themselves as the scrum-half and right wing respectively, seemed to have an idea of what was going on. Unfortunately, they were on the opposing team.

The game was an absolute mess, most not having any idea how to do anything, most making illegal tackles all over the field. Thankfully, after an incredibly clumsy scrum, she found the ball in her hands, and that meant that she could do something. Years of dance lessons and cardio training ensured she was agile enough for her position, and she had been called deceptively fast by Coach Lorenzen before, speed which seemed to take others by surprise as she ducked and weaved her way past the opposing forwards. Despite clearly not knowing the game, Rachel was pleased to see Quinn doing her best to clear her some room, along with some other cheerio that had slushied her three times in the past month.

It was only by sheer luck that when Santana appeared directly in her periphery that she was able to pivot herself fully, only letting the taller girl graze her as the cheerleader stumbled past. Rachel quickly, seeing Brittany closing in on her, tossed the ball back to a waiting Quinn before joining the rush again. The girl made it about ten steps before being tackled by Brittany, who was like bottled lightning out there, but she was pleased with the forward push. After a few minutes and more attempts, they'd ended up with a try, which was pleasing.

It was on the next offensive rush, this time the other team pushing against Rachel's, that Santana barreled into her, despite Rachel being nowhere near the ball carrier. She, of course, stumbled and went to a knee for a moment, before chasing after the girl and the rest of the group that had started passing them by. Rachel was by no means a sore loser or a cheater, but she wasn't one to take a hit and just forget about it, not when they were playing rugby with apparently minimal regulations.

So when Santana got passed the ball, Rachel sideswiped the girl with a wholly legal tackle, tearing the cheerleader down to the ground from mid-sprint. From then on, the game went back and forth, the match ending in an underwhelming tie. No one seemed entirely pleased with the result, and while everyone had still been clumsy, many had started to get a feel for the game by the end of the period.

Rachel, as per usual, changed closest to the locker room doors; it was always her goal to get in and out as fast as possible, but her leg hurt from one of Brittany's tackles, so she was trying to be as patient with herself as possible in order to not aggravate her minor injury. At least, until she felt and heard the slap that impacted against her ass, sending her reeling forward momentarily until she caught her balance on the wall. Her head pivoted quickly, no one apparently having paid attention, and spotted Santana walking away from her leisurely with a little more sway to her hips than usual. Rachel's face went beet red, and she knew she should have just marched over to her and told her off, but the girl was surrounded by her Cheerio friends, and that made her fairly invulnerable.

She quickly changed and made her way into the halls, marching over to Santana's locker. Rachel pulled out a sheet of lined paper and scrawled out a short note about how she didn't appreciate having her body handled in such a manner, and that if Santana wished to touch her inappropriately, she may instigate rumours that the cheerleader had a ravenous interest in her physical assets as payback.

Afterward, Rachel stormed off to her next period, entirely aggravated and annoyed by the other girl's behavior.

* * *

Rachel was pretty certain that the third time was far from an accident. She had enjoyed a nice, calming lunch outdoors, enjoying the beautiful weather, and was just heading inside when she collided with something and immediately felt a freezing cold sensation on her chest.

"San, your ice-cream!" Rachel heard Brittany exclaim in a panic, too annoyed and frustrated to open her eyes and see the smirk that she knew was gracing Santana's lips. "Now all you have is the cone, and that's like, the worst part. It's not even a waffle cone, or one of the drumstick ones filled with chocolate."

"Don't worry, B, it's still salvageable." Santana noted reassuringly, though Rachel could hear the playfulness in the tone, and her eyes snapped open to see what the girl would try to do. Rachel saw the big scoop of ice-cream on her chest and neck, the absolutely non-vegan milky cream streaming down and seeping into her dress. It was horrible and nauseating. But just as she was about to remove the offending cold snack food from her body, Santana's hand took hold of it and placed the messy scoop back onto her cone, Brittany clapping excitedly, clearly happy for her friend. "See? It's totally good... right, Berry?"

Rachel just crossed her arms over her chest and glared at Santana, who had this absurdly infuriating smirk plastered on her face. "I'm not amused by your latest prank, Santana. As a vegan, you've made me very uncomfortable, and you've more than likely ruined this dress. Now, if you don't move out of the way of the doors, I might simply expel vomit on you, and neither of us wants for that to occur." She rambled nervously, the scent of the strawberry ice cream fueling her nausea with each passing second. Strawberry was the worst.

For a moment, Santana looked legitimately concerned, but Rachel knew she shouldn't have fallen for it as Santana took a step forward and, with her free hand, wiped off the majority of the remaining cream from her chest. Rachel's eyes bulged at how absolutely inappropriate the gesture was, and she nearly choked on her tongue as Santana took the cream-covered digits into her mouth. If she wasn't Rachel Berry, and if that wasn't Santana Lopez, she would have considered the possibility that she was being flirted with. Instead, she just got more aggravated at the girl's attempt to get her riled up and quickly pushed past the cheerleaders and rushed down the hallway toward the nearest washroom.

* * *

The fourth time, Rachel wasn't really sure. She'd gotten fairly paranoid since Santana had joined glee, and had done her absolute best to steer clear of the girl who was constantly tormenting her. Whether with slushies, or getting cheerios to hassle her in the halls, or her rather physical and personal pranks, Rachel was constantly on edge. Sure, the girl had merely taken her advice when it came to fear tactics, but she really hadn't wanted Santana to take it so far.

But when Santana, in her wheelchair, rammed into her in the middle of their choreography in the auditorium, propelling her out of her chair, she really had to keep herself from snapping at the girl. After all, glee was her sanctuary, and she needed to stay composed if she were to be respected there.

"Berry, why are you always in the way?" Santana snarked at her, prompting Rachel to get to her feet, brushing herself off.

"Santana you seem to have a habit of seeking out physical contact with me against my will. Is there something you'd like to tell the rest of glee?" Rachel bit back, not really certain what else she could say to both defend herself and show Santana that she wouldn't take the girl's harassment lying down anymore.

Santana's face immediately darkened, slowly wheeling toward the diva, the rest of glee looking on. "You're lucky I'm a team player in here, hobbit. Now get in the stupid chair and let's keep going…the sooner we finish, the sooner I can put you in your place."

Rachel begrudgingly knew Santana had a point; they were short on rehearsal time and needed to make the most of it. So she got back in and they continued without incident, but all throughout practice she felt the raven-haired girl's eyes on her.

* * *

The fifth time wasn't an accident at all. Santana hadn't lashed out at her directly after the wheelchair rehearsal, to Rachel's surprise, aside from an extra slushie that day at least. Weeks passed, in fact, without much incident. Santana did bump into her fairly often, whether in the halls or in glee, and occasionally she blocked Rachel when she tried going into rooms, or tried opening her locker. Mere minor annoyances at most. The entire Quinn drama had peaked, and Rachel figured Santana was too busy helping her blonde friend out to harass her, but soon enough that all came to an end.

It was four days after sectionals when Rachel found herself without a ride home. Her father Hiram had been out of town in some conference when the surprise snow storm hit, and her daddy Leroy had gone to help him out of a ditch somewhere just outside of Columbus. So she was left to walk two and a half miles home. It certainly wasn't a nice day outside, and despite being bundled up with her hat, scarf, mittens and parka, she knew she'd be cold when she got outside.

As usual when walking home, she cut across the football field to save herself a few minutes, not wanting to spend any extra time outside in the snowy weather than she needed to. However, fate seemed to have other plans, perhaps nasty ones, which were made evident when she heard another pair of boots crunching against the snow a bit behind her and to her left.

"You lost, dwarf? The parking lot's the other way, but with your height, I'm sure it's easy to get lost with the snow up to your chin and all." She heard Santana note, clearly amused about something, but Rachel couldn't understand what was humourous about the situation.

"I'm simply walking home, if you must know. It's a nice additional bit of supplementary exercise, which I imagine will only create a more strenuous workout as the snow builds." She explained tersely, hoping Santana would leave her alone, but it clearly wasn't going to happen. Rachel had hoped that supporting the cheerleader during sectionals would get her off her case, but it didn't seem to have worked.

"It's too chilly out here to use so many words, Berry." Santana sighed as the cheerleader caught up to her, walking closely by her side. "Thought you'd be prepared enough to avoid walking home in a damn blizzard."

Rachel laughed at that; it clearly wasn't a blizzard, though the snowfall as getting heavier. "My daddy took the car I brought here so he could go get my father. He was in a car accident." Rachel noted firmly, hoping Santana would leave it at that.

"Shit, that sucks, Berry. He alright?" Santana asked, sounding mostly indifferent, but there was more than a hint of concern there. It was suspicious, and it immediately put Rachel on edge.

"Why are you following me, Santana?" she grit out, marching ahead at a bit faster pace, but Santana had grabbed a hold of her scarf, keeping her from getting too far without choking herself. Weeks and weeks of bottled up frustration and aggravation spilled out from her at that moment; she was too tired and cold and frustrated to take any more of the girl's harassment. "What is it now?! What do you want from me?! You're so exhausting to deal with! Is there something I can do to just get you to leave me alone for once?!" she yelled at the Cheerio, whose placid expression just infuriated her that much more. "Well?!"

Santana seemed to consider something for a moment, biting her lip, before nodding. "Yeah. There is." The girl said softly, and with one firm tug, Rachel was stumbling into the cheerleader, whose arms kept her from falling straight into the fluffy snow beneath them.

Now, Rachel wasn't one for violence, but for a split second she really just wanted to hit the girl and keep hitting her until she left her alone. As she went to steady herself, she felt her body be tugged yet again, pressing her right up to Santana's body. Rachel lifted her head to ask Santana what she was doing when she felt arguably the softest lips in the universe gently touch down upon hers, if just for a moment.

Reflexively, to keep her unsteady self from falling to the ground from both shock and the surprisingly wonderful sensation running through her, she threw her arms under Santana's armpits and pulled the girl close by the shoulder blades. Santana adjusted her grip as well, moving one hand to the small of her back and the other hand clasping the back of her neck, pulling Rachel's head impossibly closer to her as Santana pressed yet another soft, sensual kiss against her lips. Rachel was almost too surprised to return the favour, especially considering it was Santana that was kissing her, but she appreciated the dramatics of it all and leaned forward into the kiss, taking a chance and nipping lightly at Santana's lower lip.

And then Rachel came to know that Santana was a sorceress when it came to kissing. She wasn't even sure what happened, or how it happened; her mind was too caught up in the fact that Santana's lips, teeth and tongue made her feel absolutely electric to notice they'd somehow made the long trek back to the parking lot. That knowledge was only bestowed upon her when Santana surprisingly lifted her up by her bum and rested her on the hood of a car. That was enough to spur her out of her daze, her mittened hands gently pushing Santana back out from between her legs, putting them about a foot away from each other.

Rachel took a few deep, difficult breaths in an attempt to calm her down; her breath control was usually excellent, but the kiss had caught her off guard, and she wasn't really actively thinking through most of it, just reacting. Her gaze was locked on the absolutely lustful expression Santana was wearing, and she had to try really hard to suppress the smile that she normally would have allowed. Rachel had never had anyone look at her like that, kiss her like that, want her like that. Sure, Puck had wanted to make out, but she never felt like anything special to him. The way Santana was looking at her was different, and she wasn't quite sure she was opposed to it.

"Santana…I don't understand. I…I appreciate it, but…you've confused me terribly." She sputtered out, despite trying her best to sound calm and collected.

Santana closed her eyes, shaking her head slightly, before she opened the driver's side door and gestured for the brunette to follow. Rachel brushed off as much snow from her coat as she could before getting in; she didn't want to make a mess, after all.

The drive home was silent, and she was surprised Santana knew where she lived. After a few moments of sitting in the driveway, Santana let out a sigh. "Look, I…can I explain inside? I can't think, just sitting still and everything, and I don't know how much I want to say or whatever." The girl stated with a furrowed brow, looking a little uncertain and hesitant. Rachel nodded and left the vehicle, unlocking the front door. She kept the door open and stomped the snow off her boots before entering, Santana doing the same before closing the door behind them.

Rachel felt entirely nervous as she led Santana into the living room; she didn't want to pressure the cheerleader by sitting too close, so she grabbed the empty recliner and waited for Santana to get out what she needed to. It had been a good enough kiss for Rachel to feel that the girl had earned the right to explain herself, despite their history.

"Look, I'm not good at talking about shit like this so just listen and let me work through it…okay?" Santana asked as she paced around the living room aimlessly. "I never hated you, alright? It was just the law of the land, and what I was supposed to do as a cheerleader. And then I ran into you that one day and you called me on all my shit. Like, seriously, no one's ever talked to me like that before, making me feel worthless and invisible and shit."

"I made you feel worthless? And…you're hardly invisible, Santana." Rachel interrupted, earning a frustrated glare from the cheerleader.

"Fucking let me speak, alright?! You…you said I was just like all the other cheerleaders, that I could be better but I wasn't. Fucking low blow, but you were right, okay? I was so angry for the rest of the day, because I didn't know how to freaking handle you anymore. You tore me a new one and I wanted payback, but I didn't know how to get the right kind, something that would set me apart, you know? Something you'd remember, that none of the others would do." Santana rambled, and it was kind of endearing to see her so focused on saying such simple, candid things. And it was nice to know that Santana had listened to her completely. She knew from experience that most didn't. "And I was fucking stumped for so long, and then coach made us play rugby and you were a fucking lioness at it. Like, a wild fucking animal! Rachel Berry, hater of basketball, football, and pretty much any contact sport…running around like fucking Mercury out there! No one could touch you!"

Rachel had to grin a little at how worked up Santana was, yelling about her admittedly sub-par rugby prowess. She wasn't all that good; she was just agile and fast like Brittany, but with less top end and reach than the blonde due to their differing statures. Rachel held to Santana's request for silence, but gave her a thankful smile for the compliment.

"And when you friggin' spun on a dime and I basically slid over your hip, that was it. Next opportunity I had, I fucking ran into you, because you were so frustrating and surprising and I didn't even know what to think about you." Santana continued her rant, pausing her pacing for a moment as she bit hard into her lip, a wistful look spreading across her face for a moment. "But then you tackled me."

Rachel couldn't help but laugh at how happy Santana looked and sounded at the memory of her basically throwing the taller girl into the dirt. She couldn't hold her silence any longer. "I just wanted to bring you down to earth, a little bit. I play by the rules."

"That's just it, though. You really don't. You're supposed to be a loser that got hurt from every slushie or whatever, but you were like an impenetrable fortress. Nothing we did could tear you down, and then you freaking call me out on my shit, and you challenge the whole hierarchy at school? BADASS. You get hit by Quinn's right hand enforcer, and you annihilate her both in the halls AND on the field, within the legal rules of the game? Do you have any idea how awesome that was? How…how aroused I was?" Santana choked out that last bit nervously as she renewed her pacing. Rachel didn't know how to speak anymore, too much in shock from the revelation to really do much but gape at the cheerleader. "It's like, fuck, you don't talk shit to any of the other cheerleaders, just me. And even though you were tackled illegally all game, I was the one you wanted revenge against. It felt awesome. I…I felt like hot shit! It's why I slapped your ass…which I'm totally kind of sorry about, by the way…I just felt awesome that you were singling me out." Santana quickly shot out, blushing with her hands up apologetically.

Rachel thought about it for a moment and realized that while Santana had aggravated her tremendously, so did Quinn much of the time, yet she always just tried to make friends with her in hopes of being inclusive, hoping Quinn would find a home in glee. And she tended to ignore the other cheerleaders outright. In hindsight, she HAD singled Santana out, especially since the day she talked back to her. It was a peculiar bit of information, but perhaps not the most pertinent. She, after all, had not been all that amused by Santana at all, but perhaps she did enjoy the cheerleader's attention in some form along the way.

"And then I got back to my locker and you'd left a fucking note telling me you'd basically out me if I kept it up, even though I knew you wouldn't because you're too goddamn nice, but I kind of got the message. I really tried, alright? But then I bumped into you when I was with Britt, and I spilled ice cream on you, and it was like, the one day of the year you actually decided to show off your breasts." Santana continued exasperatedly, and Rachel had to agree to a degree that the dress she'd sadly had to discard did wonderful things for her chest region. It was also nice to know that it was an accident, and that Santana hadn't purposely spilled the food onto her. She rather liked that dress. "And I, like, I just couldn't help myself. I felt really bad because I know you're vegan, and I tried to clean it all off, and after I took the scoop off I was feeling pretty good about keeping decent boundaries, but between you being upset about the leftover bit, and how when you crossed your arms, it made your breasts perk up, I just…I went into my red-alert mega-flirt mode. And I really like berry flavoured ice cream, and I really wanted to touch you, and I felt horrible about it after, but…fuck."

Rachel considered the information, blushing over the fact that Santana found her attractive and couldn't help herself physically around her. Puck was a sex shark, and even he was restrained with her. That Santana felt she had to touch her, however inappropriate it was, was kind of flattering in a fairly inappropriate way. "What about the wheelchair incident?"

"Berry, you suck at working wheelchairs. You were like, ten seconds behind in the choreography all practice long, and everyone was just trying to avoid hitting you and Finn, who was even worse." Santana noted with amusement, biting her lip to keep herself from laughing. "I didn't mean to knock you over, but I had to keep face."

Rachel leaned back in her recliner, popping out the footrest and layout out on it, trying to get comfortable. "So…you kissed me because I talked back to you, tackled you, and apparently have nice breasts? Because that simply doesn't add up in my mind." she asked, not wanting to read into Santana's words too much for fear of getting anything wrong, or putting words into the girl's mouth.

"I kissed you because at sectionals, you believed in me. Even though I've frustrated the shit out of you and hurt you, you still believed in me. You saw me, and…you let me know that there's still someone out there other than Q and B who see me as a real person, even if I'm still a hardcore bitch." Santana said softly, walking over to the window and looking out at the snowstorm. "And I thought back to when you called me out and you told me I could be better. So fuck it, I decided to be better. I spent the past few weeks helping out Q with her kid and her bills and shit. I've been tutoring B, visiting my abuela more, being nicer in the halls…as nice as I can be without Sue kicking me off the team. And...and I saw you walking home in the snow and I wanted to give you a ride home, but I didn't know how to ask you, and I got nervous and shit."

Rachel let out a laugh at that, but felt bad seeing as her amusement only made Santana appear sad and uncomfortable. "You could have just asked. I'm quite forgiving and I might have accepted."

"Britt said I should have been a lot nicer to you, like giving you flowers or compliments or whatever, but I don't know how to do that without getting word vomit or going catatonic, and I figured you'd be totally suspicious and get super paranoid, so I decided I couldn't." Santana explained in a rambling fashion that kind of made her proud, and Rachel could understand. Santana had shown her sympathy about her father getting in an accident, and it had put her on edge immediately, sending her into something of a mini-tirade. A rose probably would have been a lot worse; it might have induced a panic attack. "I just didn't want you to walk all that way alone, so I figured I'd walk and show you I wasn't always a huge bitch, and maybe you'd warm up to me. But you got really mad and I didn't know what to do, so I kind of just figured 'screw it' and kissed you."

"You haven't asked again whether my father's alright." Rachel noted curiously, wondering why. Santana just shrugged nervously.

"I…I figured that since you weren't freaking out and checking your phone every thirty seconds, that he was okay. That since your dad was driving to wherever he is, that it wasn't a hospital, maybe. I don't know. You seemed okay." Santana rambled quietly, wringing her hands a bit as she continued watching the snow fall.

"He's fine." She answered, drawing a soft, relieved smile on the other girl's face that seemed so foreign that she almost looked like an entirely different person. "So…what do you want me to take from this? You kissed me because I made you feel confident and because you panicked?"

"I kissed you because you made the idea of being Santana Lopez again sound worthwhile and appealing, like it would be a good thing. Even if you're, like, totally straight, I kind of wanted to thank you anyway." Santana noted calmly, her eyes so soft with wonder at the sight of the snow falling outdoors. Rachel peeked from where she was seated, and figured it looked just like it always did, just with more snow, and with darker skies due to winter.

"And if I wasn't totally straight?" she asked softly, wondering what Santana would say to that less than hypothetical situation. The girl didn't take her eyes off of the scene outside, but she blushed a little and smiled a little bigger.

"Then I…I guess I'd tell you that there's this Santana Lopez girl at school who's kind of maybe up your alley. She loves music, especially jazz, but she has a secret soft spot for musical theatre. That last summer, while on vacation in New York with her parents, she snuck out of the hotel and caught a show of 'Wicked!'." Rachel gasped at the revelation, excited to know someone else who would go to great lengths to see such a fantastic performance. "And while she has a bit of a rough past, she really does try to be a good person. And she's excited to make snow angels outside. And she might have already bought you a birthday gift as a means to apologize, but I'm only telling you that because she heard you hate surprises."

Rachel just sat there in her chair for a few minutes, thinking over everything that was said from their chance encounter in the halls up until then. It was arguably the least romantic courtship she'd ever taken part of but after about ten minutes or so of heavy deliberation, she looked back up to Santana, who still had that soft, content expression on her face, clearly comfortable in the same room with her, just staring out at the snowy scenery.

"You understand why I could think this whole thing was a potential prank, right?" she asked, drawing a nod from Santana, whose expression fell. "You realize that you've made my life hell for months, and a single event couldn't make up for that." Again, Santana nodded in agreement. "You understand why I could be suspicious and paranoid?"

Once again, Santana nodded, the girl's head seeming to be heavier with each gesture of understanding. "But do you understand why none of that matters?"

Santana finally turned her head toward Rachel, offering her a questioning look before shaking her head.

"Because I'm not interested in that cheerleader. Instead, I'd like to meet this girl you spoke so highly of." Rachel noted with a coy smile, amused at how big Santana's eyes got at her words. "She sounds lovely, and I hear she's a good kisser…so why don't you come over here and sit with me, so you can tell me all about her."

Santana smiled so brightly at her that Rachel couldn't help but be happy she was laying in her chair, not melting to the floor. "I'd love to."

* * *

**A/N: So this was a one-shot that I outlined the first section of around the start of June, but I never got around to writing it. and then this Fifty Words in Thirty Days thing comes up, and I figure "Why not do all these little one-shots I have built up?". So I did. This fic will be a collection of one-shots by yours truly, some thousands of words long, and some rather short, depending on how inspired I am. Some may just be a few hundred word drabbles, though most of those will be connected to other little drabbles, like single-scene chapters or whatever. I'm going to be traveling throughout much of August, so that means I'll likely be using laptops to type, which I HATE. So I doubt I'll be incredibly productive. But that said, I hope to do as many of these little prompts as possible, just to keep my creative juices flowing. It'll be a nice distraction for when I'm tired of working on YYZ, Province's sequel and Feathers. :)**

**Note that most of these one-shots will be fluffy. because whenever I have an excuse to write fluff, I take it!**

**Thanks in advance for all your lovely support, I hope you've all had a wonderful start to your Augusts. :D**


	2. Denial

_50 Words in 30 Days Keyword:_ **#45 "Denial"**

* * *

Quinn hated Wednesdays. It was her longest day of the week, school and activity-wise, so it never felt like she was getting over a hump at all. Not until the next morning when she woke, and that was only if her body wasn't feeling like it was hit by a Mack truck. Wednesdays meant two Cheerios practices, one in the morning from six-thirty until eight, and one from three o'clock until four-thirty. A total three hours of grueling cheerleading practice, on stop of seven hours inside school, and even the half hour lunch was useless. After all, she was head cheerleader, and her presence was always required at the Cheerios' table.

But more than the grueling, body-annihilating workouts, it was what followed practices that made her day horrible, and what made Wednesdays the worst. After practice, she'd have to shower, twice on Wednesdays, which meant that she'd have to see Santana naked twice and do absolutely nothing about it aside from doing her bravest attempt at averting her gaze without arousing suspicion.

There was a reason why Quinn had rejected her friend's help when she was pregnant; her hormones were everywhere, she had been bursting at the seams with lust more often than not, and being away from the team was a glorious relief because of it, even if it cost her the precious HBIC status she'd built. She'd caused her own undoing anyway, so Quinn figured that the vacation was necessary to refocus.

However, it had only caused her thoughts to drift even more toward the cheerleader. Santana, back in eighth grade, was the first girl she'd ever been attracted to. In freshman year, Santana was the first person she'd legitimately crushed on. And during the early months of her pregnancy, Santana had been the first person she'd fantasized about while masturbating. When Quinn manipulated her way back onto the Cheerios, being closer to naked Santana only caused those fantasies to occur more often, to the point where Quinn was scared to even sleep, because the girl filled her dreams. That 'idle hands' saying was much more appropriate when it came to her thoughts.

In all honesty, she had no problem with homosexuality in theory; she'd known about Santana and Brittany for over a year, and it didn't disgust her in the least. The problem was that it made her incredibly jealous, and that only solidified the fact that she needed to try harder, because she wasn't allowed to be gay. She just wouldn't allow it while she was in Lima. Quinn had gone through being ugly and bullied, she'd gone through emotionless relationships with handsy, disgusting boys, and she'd gone through a teenage pregnancy that culminated in giving Beth up for adoption. More importantly, she'd been disowned by her family because she broke the image of the perfect girl that her parents had needed her to fulfill. Even though she hated it, it was the only perfect thing she truly had within her reach, she was convinced. Being gay would just make her even more of an example, a teen statistic, a freak show failure.

So when Santana waltzed into the shower beside her, gloriously naked, streams of hot water cascading across her delicious caramel curves, she had to close her eyes and focus on something other than her own ivory hands truly exploring that skin for the first time. And when Santana made some remark about how lazy the ninth graders were in practice, she had to focus on the words, and not the reminder of that playful, snarky tone that always made her sweat just a little. And she absolutely couldn't look at Santana's lips. She did once near the start of sophomore year and had to fake tripping because she found herself automatically leaning in to kiss her. It was absurd how her body reacted to the girl.

But with her eyes closed, her mind would get to work; so when it started drifting to the familiar fantasy of her pushing Santana up against the shower walls, the girl's tanned legs wrapped around her, heels digging into her hips as she devoured her second in command, her eyes rushed open and focused on a familiar crack in the tile. That crack had been her lifeline for months, giving her something to focus on, but some days it wouldn't be enough; some days she could feel the Santana of her fantasies ghosting her sleek fingers across her pale nipples or her thighs, her smoky voice whispering Spanish in her ear as Quinn just let the girl take her. It was a tantalizing thought; one she knew she'd have to leave for college or university. When she was far, far away from Lima. When she was free.

But Lima was her prison, and she still had a sentence to serve, and regular punishment to endure in the form of the temptress beside her. Quinn couldn't help but wonder if the raven-haired girl would be so calm and comfortable around her if she knew what went on in her mind. She never allowed herself to formulate how the girl would react; that was always too dangerous. Not that she'd ever consider the possibility of anything specifically, but Santana had surprised her by fucking Brittany. Hell, just weeks ago, she'd nearly walked in on the two of them, and had to go home early to take care of some unfinished business of her own. She just didn't want to know anything. Knowing she felt like she did hurt enough. Knowing she had to deny herself at all costs was torture. The mere thought of denying a time-sensitive opportunity with the girl of her dreams was something Quinn had only deeply considered once over the summer break, and she'd been bed-ridden for a week recovering from it.

It wasn't healthy. Nothing she did truly was. She denied herself happiness, freedom, sexuality, love, affection, intimacy, peace of mind; she denied herself a functioning family life, close friendships, Beth, Santana, almost everything but what was both expected of her and in her control. Which didn't leave much, but she'd always lived a life of denial. She'd always been on the outside looking in. It was just that, for those few moments in the showers, her head and heart were too desperate not to at least dream. And she couldn't hate herself for that. Even if she'd always will herself to step out of that shower and away from the girl she'd fallen for. Even if all she wanted to do was to touch her, to hold her, to fuck her, to please her, to feel her even just once. To make Santana breathe her name out in reverence. She let out a sigh of her own as she took the steps out of the showers and made her way to the bench.

Quinn had a future to look forward to, and if luck was on her side, perhaps she could make some of her dreams come true. Until then, she'd savour the sound of Santana humming 'A Whole New World' as she changed. She'd hold dear the friendly waves and small smiles she'd evoke as she rebuilt their rocky friendship. It wasn't all she could do, but it was all she would do. And maybe that was a problem.

But she refused to do any more deliberation on the matter. At least, not until she was safely home.

* * *

**A/N: Did a little stream of thought Quinn here. I figured that it would work well with the 'Denial' theme. Obviously it's AU, but hey, I did this in twelve minutes. Might follow this up with a second part based on another word later on. Perhaps "Tease", "Journal/Diary", "Stuck", or "Caught"? Definitely open to some ideas right now, and I'm pretty much open to writing anything reasonable in my spare time (like I said, this was twelve minutes between working on other projects, while eating dinner)**


	3. Drunk

_50 Words in 30 Days Keyword:_ **#49 "Drunk"**

* * *

"Berry, you don't get it." Santana drunkenly replied for perhaps the twentieth time in the past twenty minutes. She'd come back into the apartment at two in the morning, kicking up a huge stink, being a big drunken mess, and I didn't appreciate it all that much. After all, I'm a future Broadway star, needing my beauty sleep and rest to perform at a level of excellence each day. Santana knew this, and still had the nerve to wake me up. It was necessary with the state she was in, sure, but also preposterous that the girl would get so drunk so often.

Of course, I knew that she didn't purposely do so, but the least she could have done as my roommate was be considerate and not drink herself into a stupor at an absurd hour, turning the conversation around into a vague, undefined area every time I pressed for information and clarity. I'm a curious person, and I need answers. Santana knew this, even if 'drunk Santana' didn't.

We'd been living together for months, and while there had been a rocky start, I kind of really liked having Santana around when she wasn't blackout drunk. She'd mellowed out over time and was less snarky with me and Kurt, instead keeping that fun thorny side for the rest of New York to deal with. It didn't hurt that even though she occasionally stumbled into the apartment with weird furniture finds or miraculous yard-sale bargains, she was always on top of her assigned chores and would often do any that I would forget, while lambasting Kurt with mockery if he ever forgot his. It was kind of fun to be on Santana's sweet side for once, so I didn't question it. It just meant that I had to help her get to bed on her drunken nights out, which was proving to be especially difficult tonight.

"Santana, I need you to either get off the couch, or to explain what I don't get, because I don't like seeing you upset, and we both need sleep." I stated as softly as I could, pushing a stray lock of hair behind the taller girl's ear. I understood that her hearing was likely sensitive at that point of her drunkenness, so being loud would likely be frowned upon. It wasn't as if I wasn't speaking softly to her for other reasons, I simply didn't expect her drunken self to pick up on how much I cared for her.

"You got like, fuckin' Baskin Robbins and shit! It's like a fucking candy store for you, it's not fair!" Santana exclaimed with fresh tears streaking down her flushed cheeks. I had gotten accustomed to Santana crying when she was drunk; it was something I had seen the odd time in high school, but living with her meant I was exposed to that side of her often. Santana Lopez was a weepy hysterical drunk, and while it was nice knowing the taller girl would be her regular self come the morning, it often made me wonder if it was just a build-up of pain and insecurity that made her that way when inebriated. I knew her life hadn't been tremendously easy, whether at school or at home. It was worrying.

"I…I don't understand whatever analogy you're trying to make, Santana." I stated, my mind taking a few seconds to realize that the girl was talking about choice for some reason. "Are you saying I have the freedom to make a lot of choices in my life? Do you feel stuck?" This, I understood. I had worked tremendously hard to give myself opportunities, and while Santana did as well, her efforts were often in things that didn't interest her nearly as much, leaving her working at bars instead of pursuing her dreams. I knew she had great potential, I just needed for her to see it.

Santana shook her head, lifting her gaze to look at me with her dark, beautiful eyes, as pained as they were. It was never a pleasant experience to see Santana cry so honestly and without restraint; I always just wanted to hug her and make it better, but I was never sure that the girl would appreciate that. Sometimes she'd gesture me close to give me one, but much of the time she was distant instead. "Fucking lots of people who'd love to go berrypickin' and you get to be all choosy. You're fucking amazing and get tons of people fawnin' on you and I have…I don't get that." Santana moped, and finally, after many minutes of pointless runaround discussion, she was making sense. For the first time in months of drunken rants, she was making sense.

I didn't agree wholeheartedly, of course, as I wasn't being pursued with incredible conviction yet, but over the span of my freshman year I'd gained a number of relatively committed suitors. Especially after winning the Winter Showcase. It was nice, however, to know Santana had noticed, and that she seemed to agree with it all happening. She was just apparently envious of me, which seemed sort of absurd until I recalled her brief history in the city. "Santana, you've taken a lot of girls in for one night stands…I know you don't want to hear it, but you probably exiled yourself from a few communities with how you treated some of them."

"They only wanted flings and shit, okay? Just wanted all up on this…" Santana said sadly, using her hands to gesture to her whole body. "…instead of this." The girl finished meekly, pointing generally to where her heart was, and that small, vulnerable gesture nearly broke my heart. It was true, Santana was absolutely stunning; I'd long had something of a crush on her for her physical attributes, but after having gotten to know her, I knew she was more than that, and my heart had made all the proper adjustments. I didn't like the idea of Santana feeling used or valued only for her body.

I gently coerced her to slide down on the couch, to lay on my chest while I reclined back and rested my head on my favourite over-stuffed throw pillow. Santana didn't really put up a fight at all, sliding down with me, the girl's arms wrapping around my waist as she turned on her side a little. "San, there are people out there who will love you for you, okay? It's going to be okay." I whispered into her hair, hoping that she'd find it encouraging. I'd never helped anyone through such colossal universal heartbreak. I'd never had to help anyone through the notion that they were unlovable.

"I jus… I jus wanna come home and…and feel home, you know? Have someone there who shows me and shit that they…you know. Everythin'. Whatever." I didn't really know what she meant specifically, but it wasn't all that hard to tell what the girl wanted. Honestly, it wasn't that much to ask for. Santana wasn't asking for a tall leggy blonde physique in her partner, she wasn't asking for large breasts, or a firm ass, or someone taller than her. Santana wasn't asking for someone who had money or a certain career path, and she wasn't asking for someone with a specific set of hobbies or culinary tastes.

She just wanted someone who made her feel loved, and showed it to her whenever they got the chance. Looking back, it seemed fairly obvious, what with Brittany providing Santana with that treatment, to a degree, in high school. If the blonde hadn't been so quick to jump ship and try dating other people, she was sure Brittany would have been perfect for Santana, but instead, Santana was alone. And I knew that simply would not stand.

I certainly wasn't in love with the girl I was holding, at least not yet; I wouldn't attest to feeling that because honesty is important. However, I truly did care very much for the girl, and I still carried a sizeable crush on her, and she'd grown on me significantly since becoming a fully-fledged roommate. I was single, she was single. I was lonely, she was lonely. It was certainly worth a shot, and I knew from past history that Santana could be friends with someone after breaking up with them, so the potential for colossal, irreparable damage was slim. And I knew we both enjoyed each other's company quite a bit, even if Santana was often reluctant to reveal that.

So I simply laid there with her in my arms, rubbing my hands up her back until she fell asleep. With her warmth on top of me, and the comfort of the couch and pillow, I knew that I wasn't far from a similar fate, but it gave me enough time to plan. I am, Rachel Barbra Berry, after all.

* * *

It took until the end of the week to gather all the necessary supplies, and for Kurt to leave the city for the weekend, hoping to rekindle what he had with Blaine back in Lima. I knew that my plan, which I had fleshed out after that Tuesday night, was not foolproof; however, it would be well orchestrated and worth a try, and with school out for the summer, I had all day to prepare while Santana worked her long shift at the bar. She'd been curious that I'd taken a nap in the afternoon, but didn't seem to think much of it. Once she left I'd quickly arranged everything. Rachel Barbra Berry was nothing if not prepared, after all. I'd needed that extra bit of sleep to be fully awake when Santana got home around two in the morning; it'd mess up my sleep schedule, but it would hopefully be worth it in the end.

As the hours ticked past, I found myself becoming more apprehensive, yet more confident at the same time. I thought that I'd made an excellent effort, even if I didn't know how she'd respond. I laid out a few candles, but not too many, and the lighting wasn't too romantic, just low enough for it to feel more cozy and relaxing. I'd made sure not to dress too formally, wearing my favourite grey asymmetrical sweater, the one I'd worn when I made Santana a full-time roommate, along with my nicest pair of jeans, according to Kurt. I didn't want to make it seem like it was a big occasion that was like, one big night or anything. I wanted for it to feel normal. To let her know that what she wanted was within her grasp. I just hoped that she'd be fine with it being me offering it.

I'd sent off a text earlier in the night asking if Santana could come right home after work, that I needed her honest and sober opinion on something important. Of course, Santana had texted back complaining a bit about the request, but when I'd insisted it wasn't a huge thing or dating advice, she seemed mostly satisfied, even if she was rankled that I said I couldn't promise I'd make it up to her. I didn't want her thinking that the rest of the night was her reward for something.

I smiled when I heard the familiar clacking of Santana's heels in the hall outside the apartment; I'd timed dinner perfectly, an activity that I had always found difficult to be punctual with. It wasn't a lot of food, more of a snack than dinner, but Santana was always hungry after her long shifts, and I wanted to show her that I remembered.

The door slid open, revealing a weary Santana, whose pace slowed to a crawl as she curiously appraised the apartment, looking a little confused. I took the food out of the oven, resting the ceramic casserole dish on the top of the stove before tossing the oven mitts and making my way to her. "Hey San, busy night at work?" I asked before pulling her into a lingering hug, hoping the girl's night hadn't been too unfortunate. Fridays were almost always full of horrors. Sometimes, if I was still awake and in a good enough mood, it was nice to hear Santana regale me with all the crazy stories.

As I pulled back, she stared suspiciously at me, but gamely nodded. "Uh, yeah. Just the regular Friday night shitshow." Santana stated, her eyes once again looking around, clearly noticing something was different, but it didn't seem that she knew what was going on. Which, for the moment, was probably for the best, anyway.

I smiled and took the opportunity of Santana looking off into the living room to leave a quick kiss on the girl's cheek before returning into the kitchen. "Come on, I figured you'd be hungry, and I was feeling a little peckish too, so I made food." I took great pride in my ability to slip in puns when the opportunity came up, although Santana didn't make a noise, so I supposed she probably was grimacing about it behind me. I didn't look back to confirm that. Some people just couldn't appreciate my wit.

Instead, I quickly went about getting the salads dished out, and Santana's spicy pulled chicken sandwich together and on the table. As I turned around, carrying all the food like a professional, something I had taken an hour to practice with only minimal issue, I noticed Santana was still standing by the door with one hand on her cheek, her eyes just looking at me questioningly. I hadn't expected her to just go along with my plan seamlessly, but she seemed a bit stunned, and I needed her to just sit down and eat with me. It took about a half minute and a long, nervous, expectant look to break the other girl from her daze.

"You did this for me?" Santana asked, her voice slightly softer than normal, staring at the plate of food in disbelief. I knew that Santana had traditionally always prepared her own food every night after her shifts, but I needed to let her know that I paid attention to what she liked. She made the pulled chicken quite a lot, especially after hard shifts, so it seemed like a safe choice.

"Well, you worked all night, and I didn't want you to come home and have to waste time cooking when I'm perfectly happy to do it for you." I stated, hoping I had chosen my words well; the small smile that resided on the girl's lips shortly after let me know I'd won a minor victory.

Santana took a bite of her sandwich and closed her eyes, letting out a wordless moan a second or two later. "Rach…how'd you know I needed one of these tonight?" The girl asked when she was done swallowing.

"I pay attention. I know Fridays are usually long, hard nights for you, and I know you make these sometimes after those shifts, so…I thought it'd cheer you up." I stated hopefully as I took a bite of my salad.

"But…Rach, I know you don't like cooking meat…I cook for myself because I don't want you to feel bad." Santana noted with a surprisingly worried expression that I hadn't expected. I knew that she was aware of my vegan diet, but I hadn't thought she'd put so much consideration into it all.

"That's sweet, Santana, but I don't mind doing it here or there if it makes you happy. I can cook it, I just won't eat it." I said hoping to reassure the girl that I was fine, which seemed to do the trick. That, and perhaps something else as Santana's head swiveled about curiously.

"I'm not swee…wait. Is that…did you put on my Eluvium records?" the girl asked wide-eyed at me as she took another bite.

I nodded sheepishly, having wondered when she would notice. "You always listen to them for a little while after work, so I thought I'd just save you the time and let you relax over your meal."

Santana's intense gaze bore into me for what felt like minutes, the girl clearly trying to figure out what was going on. "You know I'm officially suspicious now right?" the girl asked clearly, sounding something like a warning, though the soft smile on her face was reassuring enough to know it was just a warning that she'd be acting weird until she figured out what was happening.

"I understand entirely, but you don't have to worry about it. I know you're thinking that Quinn's hiding somewhere in the apartment with a surprise or something, but she's safe in New Haven." I insisted, and the relieved sigh from Santana let me know I had guessed right. It was something of a regular pattern when Santana would arrive home drunk to something unexpected. Quinn was, inexplicably, a sort of bogeyman to her. A harmless one, but one that Santana constantly expected whenever she noticed significant change in the apartment while drunk. I often wondered how many times Quinn had surprised Santana in the past, likely within the confines of her own home. It wasn't as if such behavior could just materialize without influence. Perhaps it was why Santana had insisted on combination locks for as many of their pieces of luggage and boxes with valuable items as possible, knowing Quinn was a handy lock-picker.

However, my assurances didn't keep Santana from taking another few glances around, just to be certain. "Are you gonna spill, or do I have to wait?" Santana asked with an amused smile gracing her lips, the girl's eyes sparkling with mirth. Santana had always been up for a challenge, after all.

"I promise you'll know before I head off to bed." That seemed to get the girl thinking, and the both of us sat silently until we both finished our food. I took the plates to the sink, and Santana offered to clean. It was a nice offer, and I could see she was still off-balance by it all, so I let her clean up, leaving another brief peck on her cheek before retreating to the living room.

I didn't have the most elaborate plan. I knew I wouldn't be able to prove everything in one night, but I knew that I could show I cared, and plant a seed for a potential future with her. I just needed her to know I was more than willing, if she was. So I strolled into the living room and lit one of the pomegranate and raspberry candles Santana tended to stock up on, hoping it would help. I waited on the couch in my usual spot, remote in hand, waiting for the other girl to arrive, entirely too nervous not to white-knuckle grip the long plastic device. Through our entire tenure at the apartment, she'd often hid away her love for sci-fi; well, she had ever since Kurt had rolled his eyes at her in disinterest and I questioned the artistic merit of some of the shows without giving them a chance. I wanted to give them a chance now, though; I wanted to see why they always managed to get her so enraptured.

"So are you going to tell me what you needed my honest and sober opinion on, Rach?" Santana asked as she cautiously entered the living area, smiling at the candle for a moment before plopping down right beside me. I rested my legs over her lap and flicked on the TV, the sound of Firefly's DVD menu fading in and filling the room.

I watched closely, gauging Santana's expression, but the girl just peered intensely at the screen, her teeth gently nibbling on her lower lip. "I thought you said you didn't have time for the gloriously underwhelming genre of science fiction." Santana stated curiously, her tone distracted as her gaze remained latched to the screen. It was clear she was slipping deep into thought.

"Sometimes first impressions aren't the most informative, as we both know. I want to make time for it, and I'd like to watch it with you." I noted softly, hoping Santana would agree. Much of the plan rested on the taller girl accepting the request. I'd hoped that it would be an easy decision, but long, agonizing seconds were passing by without an answer. "I just…I…I wanted to see the things that make you happy. To understand that side of you that you usually keep to yourself."

That managed to get her attention, Santana's head turning to give her an inquisitive expression. "Why?" the girl asked simply, without the hostility or malice that often tempered the girl's words.

"Because you're worth knowing, Santana. I'd…like to share things with you, I like our time together." I stated as confidently as I could, which wasn't very, considering how she was staring at me, and how it had been a few minutes since I'd turned the TV on. The girl bore into my eyes for what seemed like an hour, an agonizingly intense hour, before she shrugged and leaned against me.

"Okay."

The simple word lifted my heart, the simple weight of Santana against me eased my fears and worries, and the girl's simple scent of cinnamon ensured a smile never left my face. I immediately started the first episode, Santana informing me that she'd be up for two episodes before she'd be too tired to continue, which sounded fine to me.

The show was surprisingly well done and quite funny, the ensemble cast performing their roles believably, and the writing truly brought them to life. In my brief exposure to the series, I couldn't help but gain soft spots for Zoe, Mal and Kaylee; I was surprised to find I enjoyed the depth of the former soldiers, and the engineer's bubbly personality. I had a sneaking feeling that Kaylee was Santana's favourite, though the engineer's similar personality to Brittany was the only real clue I was working off of.

"So? Verdict?" Santana asked as the second episode finished, looking a little sleepy and hopeful. It was a cute look on her.

"It was entertaining, and I loved the writing! I believe I seriously underestimated the quality of this show, and I hope you'll join me for watching the rest some day." I said with a smile from my spot against the armrest, Santana laying on my chest as was often the result of our movie nights.

"I would have taken a 'It was great' or 'I liked it', but that'll do, hobbit. That'll do." Santana spoke happily as she shifted position to get more comfortable on top of me. "And I'll watch the rest with you for sure…any excuse to see more of Inara's sexy self is good enough for me."

I just nodded; I wasn't the biggest fan of the character's career choice, but she was positively alluring and elegant. "On that, we can both agree." I stated offhandedly, only soon after realizing that Santana had gone tense in my arms. Of course I'd let slip that I found such a character attractive before letting slip that I liked Santana; my plans never went off without a hitch, after all. "San?"

"You down some wine coolers before I got home, Berry?" The girl asked cautiously, moving to turn and face me, but I held her firm in my arms, not feeling confident enough to endure her gaze yet again.

"I…well…no. I'm completely sober, Santana." I noted nervously, Santana wriggling around in my arms, eventually breaking free of my hold; she quickly propped herself up on all fours and crawled over me, giving me that questioning expression that always seemed to pull secrets from my lips. Not that I was uncomfortable with her, or that I was distrustful of her, it was just something I liked having control over.

"You think Inara's sexy." Santana challenged, narrowing her eyes. I could only nod, gulping back my fears and nerves. "You find women attractive?"

I nodded again, slowly this time, which raised her eyebrows up her forehead in surprise though she made no effort to move away from me. "I've never liked to label my sexuality. I find people attractive, not set groups of people with specific reproductive organs." I blurted out nervously, trying and failing to keep my calm, Santana's raven hair tickling my cheeks as it curtained our faces.

Santana was quiet for a little bit, her eyes opening wider as a brief look of clarity washed across her face. "Is that why…all of this? You're trying to see if it'd work on some girl you have the hots for? Because I didn't need to be sober for that, Rach. You said you didn't need dating advice."

I shook my head, but couldn't help but feel a little worried that she hadn't picked up on the signals that I was trying to do things that made her happy. That showed her I cared. "I was honest, I don't need dating advice, Santana. I needed you sober because…just…just promise me you won't be angry, okay?" I asked, my fears and insecurities starting to take over as my eyes darted away from hers. I'd thought things had been going well, but it turned out that I hadn't gotten anything across to my roommate. It often ended up that I'd get nervous and say a lot without saying anything of clear value. Perhaps I did that again, though I thought I'd been rather forward. "Please, promise me…"

"Sure, whatever, Rach. I'm all ears…if you've been buttering me up to tell me you got pregnant for real this time, though, I might laugh a little before I go order some shit online for you." Santana answered softly, lifting up my chin with her free hand and forcing me to meet her warm gaze, forcing me to see that amused smirk on her lips. "Spill, Berry."

"I…I had tonight planned for a few days now. I didn't want tonight to be special…I want it to be normal." I started, Santana intently watching me with a confused expression etched across her beautiful features. "I wanted it to be normal because I wanted you to come home and…and feel at home here."

Santana let out a soft chuckle as she moved her hand to rest on my forehead, seemingly appearing concerned that I had a fever of some sorts. "Rach, are you feeling alright? I live here, of course this is home to me."

"No, I just…I mean…I want you to be able to come home and know you're safe here. That this is a place where you're cherished for all that you are, where you don't have to hide away your interests and passions from anyone. I want you to come home and know that you're a part of this home, along with me and Kurt, and that even if we're not here, or you're not here, that you're not alone." I rambled nervously, Santana's softened expression doing nothing to slow the torrid pace of the words bursting out of my mouth. "I want you to know that I don't mind cooking you meat if it means you smile. I want you to know that when you come home drunk out of your mind, I'll be here to take care of you, even if I'm so worried that I can barely function sometimes. I need you to know that your head and your heart are far more precious to me than any other part of you. I need you to know that when I get home, you're always the first thing my eyes look for. I need you to know that there's someone here that misses you when you're gone, who wants to be here in some form when you get back."

I took a deep, shuddering breath to try and get control of my emotions, my hand furiously wiping away the tears that relentlessly forced their way out. I hadn't been able to see the other girl for most of my rant due to my tear-induced blurry vision, and I certainly wasn't ready to meet her gaze, so I kept it on the hem of my sweater that my other hand was fiddling with nervously. "I need you to know that I'm here if you'll have me. And that I'm here if you won't."

Santana was silent above me yet again as I fought desperately not to break underneath her. As seconds passed, I started desperately wishing I hadn't talked to Santana on Tuesday night, that I hadn't gotten emotionally invested while making the plan, while having such a good night with the girl. Her hand migrated back down to cup my cheek, her thumb stroking it tenderly. "You could have anyone, Rachel." She heard Santana's strained whisper from above. I wiped my eyes again, daring to look at Santana; I knew that tone and I really needed Santana to know that I was serious.

"Does that mean I can have you?" I asked softly, leaning into the hand that was still resting against my cheek. I watched Santana mouth what looked to be an expletive as she grew flustered by my question.

"I work at a lesbian bar. I used to torment you. I always come home drunk and whiny and burden you with my shit. I…" Santana started, her voice hoarse as she listed off insignificant reasons for me to avoid her. It simply wasn't convincing, and I had to put an end to it.

"I've always wanted things too much, Santana. And I want this." I stated calmly, pressing my hand over her heart. "So unless you can tell me legitimately why my heart's not safe with you, and why yours wouldn't be with me, I'm going to keep waiting and working until you realize that it's okay that I feel something for you. I'll keep waiting for you to tell me that you don't want to be with me."

I gazed straight into her dark eyes, challenging her for some response to let me know what she needed from me. When her eyes darted off to the side and closed, I felt my hand leave her chest to cup her cheek. "I'm tired. Can we…just go to bed?" Santana pleaded softly. I nodded, caressing her cheek for a moment before letting her go, Santana easing her body off the sofa.

I followed her into the bathroom, compromising on a much more abbreviated nightly routine so that I'd finish at about the same time Santana did. I ended up finishing a bit earlier, surprisingly, and simply waited for her by the curtained off bedroom sections.

When she emerged, she looked tired, vulnerable and nervous, and I just wanted to kiss her worries away, even if it was likely a poor idea. I beckoned her closer innocently, and though I didn't expect her to react much, she surprisingly increased her pace across the floor and let me pull her into a brief hug. Wordlessly, I took her hand and led her into her bed area, only letting go when she moved across the room to set her alarm. Her expression was difficult to read in the dim lighting, so I simply slid into the bed and hoped that I could help understand her through touch.

I heard her slide in soon after, and I quickly shifted over to find her on the other side of the bed, facing away from me. Hesitantly, I slid my arms around her waist and pulled her up against me, my nose nuzzling into the crook of her neck. She was, after all, a bit taller than me. I felt her wriggle against me, trying to get comfortable, and was pleased to hear a happy sigh leave her throat.

"Are you sure?" I heard Santana ask quietly. It was a question I'd answered Tuesday night, so there was no hesitation on my part.

"I want you…if you'll have me." I answered softly, enjoying the close proximity to my roommate, her body's warmth making me far sleepier and cozier than I'd have previously imagined. It was nice.

"I do."

That was all I needed to hear for me to kiss the back of her neck softly, letting her know a fraction of my appreciation for that simple-yet-dramatic sentence. "I'll see you in the morning, San."

* * *

**A/N: Another fluffy pezberry fic, because I can. :3 And it's my first attempt at writing first person in YEARS. Seriously. I probably messed this up entirely when it comes to tense, but maybe if you shut your brain off to that part, it reads well. :P I just figured that with these being one-shots, it'd be worth trying my hand at something new.  
**

**Thank you all for your support, you're quite a wonderful audience :D**


	4. Rehearsal

_50 Words in 30 Days Keyword:_ **#31 "Cheating"**

* * *

With great trepidation, Santana approached the choir room that Wednesday afternoon; it was the club's second meeting of the school year, but it'd be the first that Santana would go to. Ever since Monday, she'd considered just quitting, but she was stronger than that. She'd been strong enough to endure it after Britt left her, she'd find enough strength that Wednesday to sit up there in the risers as usual, and maybe sing a song too, because fuck if she didn't need to express herself something fierce.

Fierce. Santana knew she should have been fierce, but if she were to be honest, the past year had torn most of the fight out of her. It wasn't something she'd admit verbally, but among the two people who knew her best, it was likely plain as day, which was why it hurt so much. It hurt that her pain didn't matter to them. Both had cared more about hurting someone else than they cared about hurting her; at least Britt had been honest and kind of led her into her new reality at a comfortable pace that was easier for her heart to handle, easier to process. Rachel was an entirely different mess.

One could wonder how Santana ever came to care for Rachel Barbra Berry and all her Broadway-loving glory, and it wouldn't be a terribly complex tale at all. A week after nationals, Rachel caught Finn fucking another girl at one of Puck's parties that she'd finally willed herself to go to for once, and the diva had unfortunately found a reason why Finn demanded she let him 'party with the bros alone' on those nights. Santana had been out getting some snacks for a late night bad movie marathon, and spotted Rachel walking on the side of the street on the way home. She'd been having a particularly lonely day, and was so desperate that she invited Rachel to watch hilariously bad movies like Ghost Storm and The Room, and it had been surprisingly awesome. Rachel, after calming down from her grief, had been a good, witty conversationalist and hadn't blabbed her ear off, so Santana had let herself enjoy the other girl's company not long after that night.

At the six week mark of their regular hang-outs, Rachel had kissed her, and that was kind of it for Santana. It wasn't long until she'd fallen for the pint-sized diva, until she'd found her entirely endearing where she'd once thought the singer annoying and abrasive. And Rachel, in turn, had softened her up, made her feel brave enough to be vulnerable and casual again, and for the rest of the summer they were attached at the hip, spending nearly every day together. August eighth, Santana told her she loved her at their favourite park, watching the sunset, and Rachel reciprocated four nights later after an admittedly sweet date she took the girl out on in Columbus. Before Rachel, Santana had been really working on healing after Britt, and the short brunette just finished the process, Santana feeling secure and safe in giving all of herself to the diva. She'd wanted to be shocked about it all, she'd wanted to fight it, but Rachel had proven herself to just be a perfect fit for her. No matter what issue was ailing her, Rachel always knew the right thing to say, the right words to use, the right distractions to help her through what she was dealing with. Santana remembered actually going to church a few days after Rachel's confession, making a tearful one of her own, thanking God for sending her that amazing young woman she'd spent all summer with. She'd never been so happy.

So when the day before the start of school rolled around and she didn't hear from Rachel, she chalked it up to nerves and preparation, knowing how much her girlfriend needed to plan out everything in order to feel settled and secure. It was kind of cute, and after calling and texting her a few times, she just let the girl be, capping the night off with her usual good night text. Rachel finally texted her back that night simply stating she'd have her own ride the next morning. It had been a little concerning, as Rachel had always ended her texts with some sort of affection that always made Santana feel special. She just assumed her diva was too tired to notice, and slept soundly, giddy to see her girlfriend and be out with her in the halls. They'd worked hard in the month leading up to school, Rachel encouraging Santana enough to feel comfortable being out and open, which Rachel celebrated with such warmth and excitement that Santana thought she'd do anything for the girl. Anything.

And when she walked cheerfully down the halls toward Rachel's locker, she really knew she'd have to do everything. The school would be hostile, she knew, and that meant she'd have to do dirty work to keep Rachel safe. Rachel's safety had been her first priority; Santana knew she could take care of herself, but Rachel was a fair bit smaller, and a pacifist, so she knew the school would see her as an easy target. She committed to doing whatever she was asked, so long as it kept her safe. It was only when she turned the corner and saw Finn making out with her girlfriend, Rachel responding passionately, that she realized Rachel would ask her to set her free. That maybe, Rachel wouldn't even ask her. Maybe she'd just expect it, demand it, and suddenly that familiar weight had come crashing down on her.

She'd spent the first three periods hyperventilating in a janitor's closet, trying not to have a panic attack, trying not to break down, trying not to lose her sanity. When lunch rolled around and she'd worked up the courage to venture the halls, and saw them kissing sweetly at a table in the cafeteria, talking and smiling at each other in the same way that the couple used to in junior year, she had to rush home. She had to keep herself from just breaking in front of everyone. So she had waited until she was home, in her shower, for her heart to break apart. She just closed her eyes and imagined every piece falling away from her and swirling down the drain, and she didn't have it in herself to do anything about it. She'd given her heart to her parents and they neglected it. She gave it to her abuela and she exiled it. She gave it to Britt, who decided someone else's was better and more deserving of her own. She gave it to Rachel, who loved it, caressed it, let it grow under her care, before stomping it into dust. Dust that just trickled down the drain with her body-wash as if it was just as disposable as some three dollar commodity one could by at a grocery store. Because apparently to everyone who mattered, it was, and Santana didn't understand why it had to be that way.

She'd skipped the rest of Monday, all of Tuesday, and pretty much all of Wednesday as well. Britt had sent her a few texts that went unanswered; she couldn't discuss her heartbreak with someone who so easily and willingly fractured hers before. No one else called to check in, no one else cared. She supposed it was something she should have realistically gotten used to, but she'd always had enough fight left to hope for better. She didn't have that anymore, standing outside the choir room doors, and she wasn't sure she'd ever get it back. Rachel had been her support system all summer, Rachel had been her strength, and she was gone.

Putting on her best mask, she slipped into glee nonchalantly, finding her way to an unoccupied corner, her unfocused eyes just staring at the piano until she felt she had the mental faculties to pay attention to everything going on in the room. Like Quinn rocking a hot pink hairdo, Britt sitting on Artie's lap, Mercedes clearly gossiping with Kurt and Blaine, Sam giving Mike an impression of Jon Voight that was surprisingly spot on, Finn and Rachel kissing in the front row.

Before Santana could fully deal with the sudden feeling of nausea that rushed through her body, Schue came strolling in, clapping his hands excitedly as he scanned the risers, taking in the sight of the membership.

"Well guys, no new members auditioning yet, but I have a feeling we'll get lucky soon enough. Until then, has anyone arranged a performance to show how their summer went? I know it's still early in the week, I'm just excited to hear you all express it in song and really get the past three months out there." The man spoke excitedly, and before she knew it, she was standing from her seat and walking down the risers, her body on auto-pilot. "Santana?" he asked quizzically, knowing full well that she very rarely ever took the time to do a solo in the choir room. She merely nodded at him, unsure if she had the ability to speak yet in the proximity of her girlfriend. The girl who hadn't officially called off their relationship. The girl who broke her heart. The girl she still loved, even if she only held the paper-mache replica of the diva's heart with her.

Santana handed the sheet music to the band, and wordlessly asked Brad if she could take the keys for once. It wasn't something she liked doing in public, mostly because in her childhood, she'd practiced the piano only when she was left alone. it had been a common occurrence, and Santana had always needed something to distract herself with or else she'd be crippled by loneliness. She wanted to think it was pathetic of her, but she was eight, then. Weren't kids that young supposed to be loved? Weren't they supposed to be sent to bed with at least a hug, or a kind word?

The music hit soon after and her fingers pressed the keys on time, her body taking a momentary reprieve from most of the real world so that she could perform. Music had never been her passion, but it was always her sanctuary. It calmed her, helped her express herself honestly, which is why when she generally just felt an all-encompassing numb sense of heartbreak, she knew that she probably wouldn't cry during the performance over Rachel breaking her heart. She'd cried too much in the past year to shed any more over heartbreak. Those tears meant sadness and loss, and she couldn't willingly sob over something she'd apparently only grazed, or rented for a limited time. The pain and hurt was still there over the illusion, over the betrayal, over the lies and false memories. The only thing she'd maybe cry about was that she'd been lied to about someone loving her again, letting her believe in something that she'd desperately wanted to exist, but so obviously didn't. And that was unforgivable in her books.

She didn't look at anyone when she sang, just the piano keys and the sheet music. It was easier that way.

_How do you cool your lips, after a summer's kiss?  
How do you rid the sweat, after the body bliss?  
How do you turn your eyes, from the romantic glare?  
How do you block the sound of a voice you'd know anywhere?_

_Oh I really should have known by the time you drove me home  
By the vagueness in your eyes, your casual goodbyes  
By the chill in your embrace, the expression on your face that told me  
Maybe you might have some advice to give  
On how to be… insensitive_

Santana wasn't sure how she'd fare at school; Rachel's voice had always filled the halls, and where it had once merely annoyed her, she knew that it would haunt her for months. She wasn't sure she'd be able to even look at Rachel after everything; it was too confusing and painful to even have a physical reminder available. For a moment she considered changing schools, wondering if maybe it'd be the easier way out, the safer route to whatever recovery she could manage alone.

_How do you numb your skin, after the warmest touch?  
How do you slow your blood, after the body rush?  
How do you free your soul, after you've found a friend?  
How do you teach your heart it's a crime to fall in love again?_

_Oh, you probably won't remember me  
It's probably ancient history  
I'm one of the chosen few  
Who went ahead and fell for you  
I'm out of vogue, I'm out of touch  
I fell too fast, I feel too much  
I thought that you might have some advice to give  
On how to be…insensitive_

She felt herself choking up on the bridge, remembering how one day, they were a blissfully happy couple, and two days later, Rachel had seemingly forgotten all about her. Even if they never actually spoke again, she needed the girl to know where she was at, what the diva had done to her. That maybe being colder to her at the end of the summer would have been nicer. Maybe doing anything she was singing about would have been nicer than how it had gone down. She hoped Rachel understood.

_Oh I really should have known by the time you drove me home  
By the vagueness in your eyes, your casual goodbyes  
By the chill in your embrace, the expression on your face that told me  
Maybe you might have some advice to give  
On how to be… insensitive_

_Insensitive…_

Santana sat at the piano bench while some of the gleeks clapped for her performance; it was justifiably an awkward tone that she'd set, and the applause matched it appropriately. Pretty much no one had known about her and Rachel's relationship. In hindsight, the girl's reluctance to announce it through the summer months was telling. Rachel had wanted to keep it personal and private; just her, Santana and the Berry fathers in on it, in hopes of keeping them safe from unnecessary gossip and hostility from the group. She'd believed her then. It had been a performance for the ages.

She rose after a few moments and found herself walking over to Rachel, eventually standing about a foot in front of her, giving the girl an appraising look to see if she saw anything there. Rachel was always such a good actress, though. Even after three months, it had been impossible to tell when she was being sincere, but at that moment she didn't see guilt or regret. Not a shred of it. Just indifference.

Finn was staring at her awkwardly; his lips were moving, but she wasn't there to listen to him speak, so she let the thoughts in her head drown him out. Santana leaned forward, her head by Rachel's ear so the diva could catch every syllable.

"Tú eras mi ángel." She whispered, with a calmness that surprised even her. Still living in the wake of what she'd done, Santana leaned back and returned to her seat in the risers, not sparing Rachel another glance, not wanting to know that what she said had no effect on the other girl. She knew Rachel would just sit there with her show smile on, or with her concerned expression on, or perhaps her slightly befuddled one. All she'd wanted was honesty when she'd gone into glee, but Rachel had proven that she was just insensitive enough to deny her that simple luxury. She supposed it was a good foot to start off on for Insensitivity 101, after all. And she commended the girl for simply moving on to another performance, because hey, the show must go on. The world was her stage, and she didn't seem to care who else was privy to that knowledge.

Santana closed her eyes, bowed her head, and waited for the hour long session to end. After that, she just didn't know anymore. She didn't have much of anything left.

* * *

**A/N: Quite a bit OOC for Rachel here for sure, but the thought of Rachel acting her way through High School, making decisions on what opportunities she could take to advance her experiences...it struck a chord with me. So I wrote it, from Santana's POV, and an old Jan Arden song came to mind that fit the bill, considering I was looking for Santana to sing in glee, to express herself as Rachel would have possibly wanted her to.**

**Though admittedly, I didn't have the heart to really delve into all the fluffy details of their summer, just to crush the memory of them. Didn't have it in me today. Writing Rachel as so unrepentant was difficult enough, and I could totally understand if anyone thought I was a jerk for writing her that way :P  
**

**Anywho, thanks for all of your support! I hope your month is going well so far :D**


	5. Operation V-Day

_50 Words in 30 Days Keyword:_ **#29 "Surprise"**

* * *

Things weren't looking up for Santana Lopez. Not that McKinley High noticed, of course, outside of her recent spree of tormenting having registered a few points higher on her Bitchter scale. It was honestly all she could do to keep her mind off of everything that was happening around her.

It had all started when Britt began dating the transformer; Santana knew she'd royally fucked that opportunity up and was happy to have kind of started patching up their friendship, but it hadn't exorcised the hurt from her. She knew the pain was her own fault too, which just made it worse. Britt had been her first love, and because she had been too cowardly to speak to her about what they were doing outside of a specific sort of body language, she'd lost her chance with the tall blonde that she'd known since fourth grade. Try as she might, it was hard to keep from feeling that tight clenching pain in her chest when she'd see her best friend rolling down the halls in Artie's lap.

Adding to that, on a related note, she'd previously spent every Christmas since fifth grade with Britt and her family, or would have Britt over at hers for most of the day. She'd had to pass that torch to Artie, and that had left her holiday season incredibly barren and, though she'd never verbally admit it, lonely. Her parents had gone south to visit relatives, but she'd been too stubborn to go, staying in Lima in case Artie needed her to bail him out and keep Britt's beliefs in Santa alive. The fact that he succeeded surprised and hurt her, although she DID give him a breakdown of what to expect and how to handle the major issues beforehand. It just hurt to see Britt relying on someone else. It hurt that Britt hadn't come to see her until New Year's Day.

On top of that, she was off the Cheerios. Artie had failed the boyfriend test in her opinion, not even trying to convince the blonde to quit and save herself from Sue Sylvester's cannon-induced wet dreams. It was also kind of embarrassing that seconds before she found the right words about wanting to quit, Finn had interrupted her and got the blonde duo to quit and join glee before she could. She knew Q and B really didn't want to go, and just needed a little push, but Finn beating her to the punch was disheartening. Santana Lopez would NOT sacrifice a damn solo in front of all the people watching the half-time show, after all. So she had lost her red, white and black armor, and she was in glee. With a group half-filled with losers. Mind you, HER losers, but losers nonetheless.

Even on top of that, they'd lost Kurt to Dalton because of Karofsky was being a flaming homophobe and was generally protected by the school board. It was almost as if glee didn't want her help though, which was weird; she was arguably one of the most feared people in the school, yet when she made an impromptu visit to Berry's little brainstorming session, she was more or less told she wasn't useful or wanted. It didn't matter that she kneed the jock in the balls at least once a day for four days following Kurt's departure, she didn't seem to get any respect. She may not like Lady Face ninety-five percent of the time, but he was their gay diva, and no one was allowed to mess with him except the rest of glee. All she'd wanted to do was make that clear.

Lastly, for some inexplicable reason, Schuester decided to host some love-themed glee classes last week, and soon afterward the week had gotten off to a rocky start, with everyone giving her a ridiculous smack-down, just because she was being honest. She wasn't going to lie or anything, most of the time they sucked, and she was about eighty percent sure Finn's nipples were actually full of custard, but that didn't mean that everything she'd said wasn't playful at times. Schue WAS addicted to vests, everyone made fun of him for it behind his back, but because she was the brilliant creator of insults and came up with the twelve step joke about it, suddenly SHE was the bad guy? Not cool. Even less cool was Berry saying she'd only ever amount to being a stripper, which kind of hurt. _I'm aware of my rep, but who is Berry to say that when she doesn't know shit about me? At least I fucking validate her goals of being on Broadway when I make fun of her for being short or whatever…and sure, what I did broke her and Finn up, but the dude was a scumbag and lied to her…I'm a straight up bitch, and that means I gots to be honest. She can't hate on that!_

And so, Santana walked into school Monday morning feeling kind of bummed out. Not that she'd show it, but it was just a shitty time of the year. She hated Valentine's Day, and Britt had loved it, which just meant Britt would be super enthusiastic along with all the other couples, and she'd be ignored yet again unless someone decided to beg for a hook-up. Being single sucked sometimes; at least with her beard, she could pretend and create the illusion of being happy and whatever, but she didn't have anyone anymore.

As usual, the crowd of students parted as she put on her best arrogant HBIC face and made her way to her locker. Off in the distance, she could hear Britt's cheers, meaning Artie was taking her for a spin. _At least I don't have to worry about her this morning…though something smells different…_

Santana finished putting in her combination and opened her locker door, only to freeze in shock from the view inside. There, on top of her Geometry and History books was a box wrapped in pink and red heart-covered wrapping paper, with a note and a purple lotus resting on top. So what if she knew her flowers? She had a thing for them when she was a kid, whatever.

Even though she was weirded out and paranoid over her locker clearly having been broken into, she decided her curiosity was a bit too intense to ignore. Santana did enjoy a good mystery, or at least that's what she told herself when she'd occasionally rummage through her friends' things. Not that she did that often, just when she was suspicious, and her psychic Mexican third eye always ensured she found something substantial to confront them over in the end. So with it telling her to check whatever the shit was left for her, she reached up and grabbed the note, taking a moment to breathe in the scent of the flower.

She opened it to find a printed out message, and she felt her anticipation drop a little bit; Santana had hoped it would have at least been handwritten, but she knew it was rare that people put in the effort.

_Santana, my heart's desire,_

_I know you're probably confused and wondering why this is in your locker. Despite knowing you hold a disdain for the festive celebrations of Valentine's Day, I felt it was important to express to you that I care for you.  
I care for you immensely, so much that it hurts sometimes. I know you're going to be skeptical. You don't let anyone know who you really are, and I would admit that I only know a fraction of you, but it's more than enough for me to know that I love you. That's why I've added the lotus, it stands for mystery and truth. You may be a mystery to me still, and I may not know your entire truth, but I needed you to at least know that you're loved. Again, I can't expect you to accept this blindly, but over the week, I'll try to prove it to you. Inside the box is a hint at what helped me try to know you, what led me down the path I've been on for a long time now._

_I hope this morning finds you well, Santana_

Santana's brow furrowed as she re-read the letter two more times. Putting aside the admirer's clear lack of knowledge about the lotus flower, or at least knowledge that wasn't niche or antiquated, she felt a bit skeptical. There at the bottom of the note was a heart done in watercolour, so she was pleased to see some personality to the letter, but she'd never received a confession like that before. She honestly didn't know how to feel.

Making note that she had ten minutes before class, she decided to just go with it, opening the gift after securing the flower on her top-most shelf for safe-keeping. Santana's mouth gaped open as she stared at the contents inside. Resting on lavender tissue paper was a gloriously old looking book that, as she flipped through, was empty and full of quality paper; perfect for a journal. Underneath where it had rested was a container of ink, and what she assumed was a case for a pen. Suddenly, her brain was short-circuiting.

Santana had never told her friends about her little calligraphy hobby, as she knew Quinn would tease the hell out of her about it, and Britt would likely poke herself in the eye with the pen, or spill ink all over herself, or accidentally drink the ink. It had been a personal hobby that she found relaxing; ever since she'd seen older Disney films with fancy letters, she'd been interested in it. After months of begging throughout fourth grade, her parents had finally given in, buying her a set for her birthday. Santana racked her mind, trying to remember how someone would know. She figured if anyone did, it was Quinn, who was also a huge snoop. As the bell rang, her mind flashed to seventh grade, when her parents had asked her to do up some invitations for some party they were hosting. Nodding to herself, she knew that was the only time her hobby had made it to the public, which meant that a party a few years ago held all the clues. A party her parents wouldn't remember because they were too drunk. Fantastic.

She quickly grabbed her books and closed her locker, making her way to class as she did mental gymnastics, trying to figure out who could be behind it. Santana liked attention, she really did, but it still felt a little weird. _People don't do these things for people like me…what the hell is going on? If this is Quinn playing an elaborate prank, I'll kill her…_

* * *

Her day had been horrible, which had become standard over the past months, and as she walked to glee, she couldn't be more excited to get out of the hellhole called McKinley High. As she rounded the corner toward the choir room, Santana's pace slowed, finding it strange that Rachel was standing outside the room, looking entirely too nervous. _She's usually always there early…and I'm late as usual…so…_

"Berry, I know us people are like trees to you, but I didn't peg you for the type to get yourself lost on your way here." Santana noted suspiciously, her words causing Rachel's head to swivel toward her sharply.

"Santana! I…I imagine you wouldn't wish to speak with me, but I feel I must express my deepest regret over what I said to you last week in the choir room, it was uncalled for, inappropriate, unprofessional, and entirely inaccurate. I have no excuse for my actions and I…" Rachel rambled as she stepped right into the ex-cheerleader's personal space. Santana was kind of happy the girl was trying to apologize, as Berry's ego was about as big as her own at times, but despite the girl's sincere body language, her words just didn't sound good enough. She preferred something simple, she always had. Berry, on the other hand, had the ability to turn a yes or no answer into a six paragraph essay. She'd found the tone people speak in, their body language and their eyes to be good alternatives for extra words, just like how writing style in her calligraphy conveyed much more than the words alone. Sometimes words weren't enough.

"Whatever, Berry. Come on." She spoke lazily, hoping to convey that she honestly didn't care anymore, or at least that she didn't want to, and that she just wanted to get it all over with. Santana didn't truly hate the hobbit, she kind of liked her when she wasn't being aggravating, or pushing all the guilt Finn deserved onto her unfairly. She didn't understand why Finn lying to Rachel meant that she had to take the fault for it, and that Finn and Rachel's split somehow inexplicably was her fault, which again made no sense. The hobbit should have been happy to be done with Lumps the Clown, but the girl still looked entirely broken up about it. Not that it was at all forgivable for Berry to say what she did, but she understood people said shit when they were angry, and sometimes they didn't mean it. Quinn was the prime example of that kind of thing, after all. Berry was too sweet of a girl to have really meant it; sure the diva could be manipulative and backhanded at times, but Santana wasn't in the way of some goal of hers, so she just let bygones be bygones in hopes that things would go back to normal, and they could be relaxed in glee again.

* * *

Santana had to admit that she kind of really didn't mind snow. Sure, it was cold, wet, and made her shiver in general, but seeing how she wasn't on the Cheerios and didn't have to practice in blizzards anymore, she could enjoy the aesthetics of it all. And anyways, it usually led to her drinking loads of hot chocolate, along with the odd trip to Quinn's to lay by her fireplace. If it stuck for long enough and didn't get gross, she'd probably try to wrestle Britt's attention from Artie for long enough to go tobogganing with her. Winter was fading slowly, and while she really looked forward to spring, she wanted to make the most of the last weeks of the snowy season. It had looked peaceful outside when she woke up, which was a drastic change from the previous day; glee had been a madhouse with Finn making sex-eyes at Quinn, which Sam got kind of justifiably pissy about, while Rachel moped, and Puck tried for the seventieth consecutive time to mount the white rhino, only to continue his streak of failure. And when she'd gotten home, her parents were mid-argument, so she had just slipped upstairs, finished her homework, listened to some music, and wrote an entry in her new journal.

The book was really kind of amazing, and looked like some crazy magical tome; the pen wasn't anything special, but the thought counted, and the quality ink easily made up for it. It was a really thoughtful gift, and while she was still creeped out by it having been stashed in her locker by some ninja, she felt a little better about it. If she caught someone breaking into her locker Tuesday morning, she'd probably only hobble the person instead of doing the whole flaying thing. Which was why for the first time in her high school tenure, she was going to school early.

Her parents' yelling lasted into the wee hours of the night, so she didn't manage to get much more than a nap; she woke at quarter past five and saw a nice healthy layer of snow on the ground, with more snow softly falling from what the street lights illuminated. It was really pretty outside, so she'd shoveled the driveway, hopped into the shower, and sat down for some breakfast before heading off to school.

She knew that showing up at seven-thirty was overkill, but if someone was going to be shoving shit in her locker, she needed intel. Santana needed to know how they were doing it and when they were doing it, and she had decided it was either after school hours passed, or before classes started, and no matter what, she'd have a decent bit of information either way, showing up that early.

The halls were basically empty aside from the odd teacher, staff member and random student; the radio hadn't reported a snow day, but on days like that most kids stumbled in close to the bell, which was an hour away. She didn't blame them, normally she loved her sleep. She actually still did, it just didn't come to her as often. With her recent school-related stress issues and her parents constantly losing their shit at each other, it just kind of evaded her. That she was a light sleeper didn't help any. _I'll take a nap at lunch, maybe. My free period runs into it, so I can get a bit more than an hour, I figure..._

She approached her locker and quickly spun out her combination, throwing her locker door open to see yet another series of gifts. This time, though, they were much smaller. There was another note, with what looked to be a magenta gladiolus resting on top of it, with a tall gift bag settled up against the right side of her middle shelf. She'd never actually grown any gladiolus flowers before, but she liked the smell of it, though it was slightly overpowered by the scent of coffee. Delicious coffee, in fact. Santana peeked her head back out and scanned the hall to see if anyone was carrying any around, but it was empty. Feeling like she was cheating a little, she took a look into the tall bag and spotted a travel mug. Greedily, she took it in her hands and opened the spout, taking a long sniff of the gorgeous Irish cream latte inside. She even smelled a hint of cinnamon, which most wouldn't put near such a drink but she loved the combination. She allowed a gleeful smile to spread across her face as she took a sip, noticing it was still quite hot. Not like anyone was around to see her smile, anyway. _Hrm…definitely left here this morning, then…_

It was strange to have her favourite comfort drink resting inside her locker at the start of the morning, kind of creepy even that they got the order perfectly, but it really did brighten her day. During the early aftermath of the Brittany debacle, she'd usually stop by the Lima Bean for an order of it when she was feeling particularly sad. Britt had convinced her not to drink a half bottle of Patron every time like she used to do whenever she got really upset, and while she kind of missed the whole drink-'til-you-forget dynamic, Santana really did like that latte. It somehow magically managed to cheer her up every time, so it was a pleasant surprise, seeing as how poor her past few weeks had been. She really did need that, and it was kind of really nice to know someone knew her well enough to help her out like that, even if she hadn't asked for help, and didn't necessarily need anyone else to handle her shit.

Deciding to be a decent person, Santana took another long sip and put the mug down, picking up the note in its stead. As before, it was printed out with a watercolour heart at the bottom. She kind of felt a little weird, wishing the person would just handwrite the note, no matter how messy their writing was; she liked written notes, it was why she liked calligraphy so much, and she figured it would be nice to have something more personal than a typed letter, something that showed personality. Not that she cared THAT much or whatever.

_Santana, my heart's desire,_

_I know that yesterday was likely a shock to you, and you were skeptical. I hope now that you are starting to understand that I am sincere in my heartfelt feelings for you. Gladiolus flowers represent that, secondarily at least, though primarily they symbolize the strength of one's character. People may notice you here at school, but I see you, Santana. You're an incredibly strong person, not only for yourself but for others. I know you help Brittany shut off the world so you can relay the truth to her when she gets confused or hurt. Across the years, you've been the only consistently good thing in her life aside from her parents, and the ducks she talks about so often perhaps. No matter what happens or how it affects you, I know you'd be there to help if she needed it, because you're a fantastic friend to the few who have earned that title from you. I love that so much about you, and I can't count the times where I've wished I was brave enough to put in the effort, because you're worth it. I can only ask for a chance, but ultimately all that matters is that you know you're cared for and loved, even if you don't wish to accept my affections._

_I've noticed you've been looking slightly crestfallen in recent weeks, and I hope that I can help you in a fraction of the way you help your best friend. You're always changing headphones, so I got you some durable ones for when you need to shut the world out and refocus. It's been a cold winter, so I knit you some gloves, in case you get chilly. I hope the coffee wasn't too presumptuous, I used to study at the Lima Bean, and for a few weeks, you'd come in almost daily for one of those. It was hard not to notice. I hope it warms you up this morning like you warm my heart. You're not alone, you'll always have me._

_I hope this morning finds you well, Santana_

Santana sat down in front of her locker, taking the gift bag in one hand and the travel mug in the other, leaving the note resting in her lap. Once again she found herself not really knowing what to think; she liked that someone paid that much attention to her quirks, and saw past her admittedly thorny, vicious mask she kept on. Not that she didn't like the power that came with that whole deal, but she was more than just a bitch, and it was nice for someone other than Britt and Quinn to notice, even if it took until junior year for that to happen. Santana knew the reality of things; when she got out of Lima to whatever college or university she chose, there wouldn't be any head bitches on campus. No one was set on the same schedule, classes ran all day and were often optional in attendance, and thousands of people were paying their own money to get a career. She'd get to be something much more organic when she was able to leave, she just had to keep her persona up as long as she was still closeted and in Lima. She knew people didn't like her, they just feared her, so reading about someone liking what little they saw of her behind-the-scenes self was kind of blush-worthy. Not that Santana Lopez was blushing. The coffee was just still kind of hot and all.

Santana peeked inside the bag and couldn't help but smirk when she saw the cable-knit mittens resting there, an oddly smoky shade of dark purple that pretty much clashed with every bit of winter-wear she owned. However, when her hands touched them, she let out a soft gasp, amazed at how soft and comfortable they felt. _Fuck fashion, if I go sledding, I'm wearing these. Or maybe that might wreck them…maybe just inside when I'm cold and watching TV? My room's insulation really sucks, and I could use some extra heat, seeing as the vent that SHOULD be leading into my room disconnected and fell three years ago, and they haven't fixed it since. Summers suck, winters suck, so if these will keep me warm, that'll do…and why am I rambling to myself? This is weird…_

Santana took another sip and re-read the letter, knowing that the cast of potential people who could have done all of that for her was quite small. She decided not to camp out earlier the next morning, figuring that maybe, with another day, she might be able to guess. She already had some ideas, though since most didn't make any sense, she figured she'd let herself stew on the details a bit.

* * *

"Santana!" She heard whispered from the desk beside her in Spanish class. Quinn had been practically stalking her all afternoon since lunch, and she didn't really understand why. Santana didn't think it was a big thing that she missed out on the Cheerios table's mindless gossip for a few minutes in exchange for an amazingly restful nap in the backstage area of the auditorium.

"Quinn!" she mockingly whispered in return, keeping her eyes on their glorious teacher. Schue's poor grasp on Spanish was probably the most entertaining thing she had going every day. Sure, a white guy with a jheri-curl and a head full of Vaseline or butter was butchering one of the languages she was proudly fluent in, one her mother taught her, but he was so convinced he was good that it was hilarious.

"What's up with your face?" Quinn asked quietly, leaning slightly into the aisle toward her for some inexplicable reason.

"Well, I still have my sultry, model-like good looks, and…" Santana quietly listed off, knowing full well that Quinn didn't mean any of that at all. Though she wasn't really sure what Quinn actually meant.

"No… you've been…smiling. It's weird." Quinn noted, nudging Santana with her foot, as if that made any difference or added any emphasis to her point. Quinn was weird when she was suspicious. She was like Nancy Drew, if she was bi-polar, obsessed with bacon, and had sudden irrepressible urges to kick people in the shins annoyingly.

"I always smile when Schue proves himself to be a waste of a Spanish teacher." She answered quietly, as if it was obvious, because it really was. Everyone in the class should be amused as shit that Schue somehow got his job. They should also, at the same time, be disgusted that he was singlehandedly ruining their chances of being bilingual.

"No, like, you've been smiling all day. Do I need to help you bury a body, or do you need me to help you plot someone's death? I'm not going to help with both, San." Quinn continued, and Santana wanted to believe her blonde friend wasn't being serious, but she really was. So they'd broke into the hospital morgue once and stolen a freshly washed body bag, one that Santana escaped with later on with no further word to Quinn. So she was pretty sure Quinn thought she'd killed someone, when in reality, she liked having props around in case she needed to pull a prank. It was how she knew that while Britt was her BFF, Quinn was the one person she could count on in the clutch if things went to shit. Whether it was because the blonde was scared of her or because she just genuinely was that loyal, Santana wasn't sure, but she let herself enjoy it.

"I'll tell you on our way to glee." Santana whispered, returning her focus back to the sad hilarity that was Schue's grasp on a wonderful language.

Class didn't last all that much longer, and soon Santana found herself slowly walking down the hallway with Quinn, who kept glancing at her face. Sure, now that Santana knew she'd been smiling all day, she'd made active attempts to stop it, but Quinn's expression let her know she wasn't being all that successful. It was just kind of cool to be wanted, there wasn't anything wrong with that. _Plus, the person who's 'admiring' me is totally classy, in a weird way, being all polite and thoughtful…none of those shitty cliché chocolates or whatever that'd just make me fat…_

"So? Spill." Quinn spoke, her tone more of a request than a demand, which meant she was nervous. Nervous Quinn was like a fragile nail bomb that could explode any second and cause massive damage including fatalities. So she quickly got to defusing it.

"It's nothing big. I just…don't laugh, alright? Because I've already done enough of that over all this." Santana said, though she was lying about the laughing aspect. She really hadn't. She was confused, weirded out, and kind of touched, but none of it was all that funny. Quinn didn't need to know, but her just prefacing her statement with that served to calm the girl down a bit. "I apparently have a secret admirer. It's fucking ridiculous."

Quinn burst into laughter, her face spelling out a level of disbelief that kind of didn't sit all that well in Santana's stomach. She understood theoretically how it could be funny, seeing as how massive a bitch she usually was, but it wasn't something that was so far-fetched or anything, was it? Santana didn't think it was too much, so she just gave Quinn an annoyed glare. "You…you're serious, aren't you?" Quinn gaped, gasping for breath as some passing students looked at the both of them with bewildered expressions.

"Yesterday they left a flower, a note and a book. Today was another flower, some headphones, and winter gloves." Santana explained, sending Quinn into more gales of laughter. "Look, you're being a little over the top with all that laughter…maybe it's to try and throw me off the trail or whatever, so you're officially on my suspect list now, Fabgay. You've been staring at me all day, after all, and you know me well enough to explain the notes."

Quinn's eyes bulged as she choked back her laughter, looking positively freaked out at the thought of being her admirer. Which wasn't a surprise, as Quinn was straight and positively avoidant when it came to any talk about homosexual desire, but it was fun teasing her about sexuality. "You…you can't think…"

"Hey, someone's breaking into my locker, and you're one of the only people at school who can pick combination locks like mine. I'm just saying." Santana noted slyly, stepping into the choir room, not giving Quinn a chance to respond before Santana went to the upper risers in her favourite corner, Quinn having to sit near her boyfriend on the other side of the room.

As Santana scanned the others in the club, she saw mostly everyone engaged in some conversation. For a brief second she swore Berry's eyes were locked on her own, before the brunette answered some question Mercedes had sent her way. It was almost as if it hadn't happened. Almost.

* * *

The next morning found Santana holding a checklist of possible suspects. For entertainment purposes, Quinn was at the top of the list, with hearts and rainbows beside her name in case the blonde managed to see the piece of paper. Mike Chang was second, seeing as he got to school at six thirty for a morning calculus tutoring session most weekdays. Rachel Berry was third, because of her tendency to be stupidly early for everything, and detail oriented, even if she was most likely straight. That, and Santana had a feeling that the girl would go all Lisa Frank on her, and her gifts hadn't been all that obnoxiously wrapped. Tina was option four, because wherever Mike went, she went, and that meant the girl had some free time to break into lockers and plant shit. She knew Tina also liked flowers too, seeing how she often worked at Lima's flower shop every summer. Lastly, there was Jewfro, because he was creepy enough to pull that off, and in a way she kind of hoped it was him so she could put the body bag to use. _But I'd probably be kind of sad too, I guess…_ she mused, driving to the school Wednesday morning.

Santana got there the same time as before, seven thirty, and once again the halls were virtually empty. She carried her fresh brew of coffee into the school with her, using the travel mug she was given, of course. Santana slipped the absolutely toasty mittens off as she reached her locker, shoving them in her coat pocket as she put in her combination, feeling kind of excited. There was a new scent in her locker, she knew that before she opened it; she'd taken both flowers home the night before, just so they would stay alive a little longer. The person had gone through a lot of work with them, and she didn't want to waste that. Didn't mean she was getting all sentimental or whatever.

Her locker opened, revealing a few Sweet Pea flowers on a single stem, one of her favourite flowers if she were to be honest; beside it was a note resting on top of what could be a small dark rose coloured jewelry box, gift wrapped with a bow. Santana suspiciously reached for the box first, thinking it would be a massive escalation from mittens and headphones to earrings or a ring or whatever. Santana carefully slipped the elegant bow off then flipped open the lid, finding a memory card inside a plastic container. It was a puzzling revelation that just made her look back to the note.

_Santana, my heart's desire,_

_I imagine you skipped this to check the box. I'm sorry, that was the only one that remotely fit today's gift. See, Sweet Peas symbolize departure, adventure, and generally having a blissfully pleasant experience with someone. While none of these have come to pass within the same context, I know you want them to. You want out of Lima just as badly as I do, and I know you'll be free soon. You may not have explored the world; I know I have barely scratched the surface in my own experiences, but I'm excited for the future, for you to get out there and see what the world has to offer, to show others the magnificence that is yourself. So I left you the memory card from my trip a few summers ago, just as inspiration and reminder that there are so many places out there for you to experience. You're destined for great things, Santana, I've always felt that, even at my worst. And I hope that one day you'll give me a chance to show you that you could find bliss with me out there, that I'm more than what this school makes me become, just like how you're more than the face you put on every morning. _

_You're a beautiful person, and I don't primarily mean physically, although you are physically attractive too. It's why I've never been able to hate you for what you do, because I know there's a wonderful, creative and entirely lovable person inside you. So keep that ambition, and when you get out of Lima, make your own memories. It's not where you start or finish that's important, it's all that glorious middle, where the adventure is. Where you'll thrive.  
_

_I hope this morning finds you well, Santana_

Santana's brow furrowed at the note as she sipped her coffee; it was long, and rambling, and if she'd read it on Monday, she would have written it off as a letter of empty words, but she kind of believed a lot of it. Not all, she deserved to be hated for what she'd done, she lived with that, accepted that. She also wasn't sure she was 'destined for great things', considering she had no solid idea of what she wanted to do in her life. Nevertheless, she kind of liked the letter, and wanted to get home to look at the pictures as soon as possible. Knowing she'd have to wait half a day to do that was more than a little frustrating. Santana had been out of Ohio five times; twice to Tampa, once to Boston, one trip to Pittsburgh, and one to Chicago. She'd always wanted to see more, but her family didn't have a lot of money.

Her father was a doctor, but his old loans, her mother's past gambling debts, and some poor financial decisions had made money tighter than it otherwise would have been. Their last 'family vacation' was a visit to family in Florida for two days, for a funeral. So Santana knew she had to get her post-secondary ducks in order, get a good scholarship to a good school, and figure shit out. She was out of the Cheerios, which only gave her more time to study and prepare for everything. She'd already taken old SAT tests and prep mock-exams and had scored well. She needed a top five percentile, if not better, and she knew she could get it if she committed hard enough. All she had to do was take a little page from Berry's book and she'd be golden.

As a thought struck her, Santana's eyes darted back to the note, reading it over carefully before she pulled out the other two. _No…I mean…I can kind of see it but…well, maybe it could be her…but how would she know so much about me? Just because the writer of these rambles on and on doesn't mean it's Berry. But…it could be…couldn't it? Wait, what about the stripper remark last week? No, I mean…no, no one could profess to love me and say that, right? I mean, that's not something you'd say, right? Fuck. I don't know anymore…_

* * *

Outside of Quinn pestering her constantly about her 'admirer', and the blonde's hilariously hasty retreats due to the darker girl's assertions that it was indeed her, Santana's day was mostly uneventful. Once again, she was on her way to her locker to grab her things and head home, wanting to put her flower of the day into the vase in her room as soon as possible, but a familiar voice stopped her in her tracks. Santana shook her head at the sound of singing from the auditorium; glee had finished barely five minutes before, and the pintsized diva was going at it again, despite having sung a solo during glee.

Deciding her flower could last a few extra minutes, Santana strolled into the auditorium, taking a seat in the front row as Rachel sang some Celine Dion song at the piano, apparently not having noticed her entry. Rachel had always been a stupidly awesome singer, and even though she hated never having official glee solos in competition, she understood that the diva earned them with blood, sweat and tears.

"Bravo." She called out, clapping lightly as Rachel's voice trailed off with the final note. The diva quickly spun around, wide-eyed and clearly in shock. After a few seconds of silence, Santana decided to take the initiative, patting the seat next to her.

Rachel gave her a wary look, but slowly made her way off the stage and to the seat beside her, angling herself in the chair so that she was nearly entirely sideways, facing Santana directly. "Santana, I…regret to inform you, but normally I practice for an additional hour on Wednesday evenings, and as it's barely ten minutes into that time period, I can only hope that you've called me over here for something other than insults or idle chatter." Rachel rambled at a lightning-like pace, Santana really having to focus to hear the diva, though she was surprised that the girl enunciated every single syllable correctly as she spoke. It was kind of impressive in a nerdy way. Anyway, she'd had a question on her mind all day, and she figured that the brunette owed her an answer.

"It's just been bugging me a little…not that I really care but…" Santana paused, trying to think of the best way to word the question, oddly trying to provoke a rant in order to get some idea of what was going on in the girl's head. "I mean, I make fun of your height a bit, and sometimes your nose I guess, and your fashion sense…so I know I had it coming in some way, but there's no way that me insulting you hurt you bad enough to say what you did. You've never blown up on Finn, Quinn or Kurt like that, so why me? I just…I don't understand."

She took a chance in not playing to her usually hard exterior, just allowing her regular curious, emotionally distanced self out to play instead, which seemed to have caught Rachel off guard. "I…um…Santana, I really do apologize for…"

"You've already done that, I don't need to hear it again, I know you meant it. I'm not asking for a repeat. I just want to know why." Santana explained, not wanting Rachel to burn away her valuable practice time on an empty answer and apology she'd already received.

Rachel was quiet for a little bit, taking a long deep breath before speaking again. "Everyone had paired up. Tina and Mike were together, Sam and Quinn, Artie and Brittany, Puck and Lauren, Finn was constantly flirting with the cheerleaders, and you and Mercedes were prowling around the football team, and I just…"

"I'm going to cut you off because I don't know what you're talking about. I mean, I get it, glee's like this big incestuous musical chairs game with relationships, but…seriously Berry. Finn, for about twenty minutes, got all pouty and spread a rumour to a few people that within hours was squashed. And you believed him? I mean, not that I have to answer to you or shit like that, but he lied to you, I told the truth even if I was harsh about it." Santana noted calmly, looking sidelong at the nervous girl beside her who was fiddling with the hem of her reindeer sweater. "I think you just wanted an excuse to get pissed off at me, and that's not cool…that's not YOU. And for the record, not that it's any of your business…I haven't been with anyone, official or otherwise, since September. I thought your sixth sense would have let you in on that." Santana finished, standing up from her seat, getting ready to walk off when Rachel grabbed her wrist. She'd said her piece, set out her bait, and was just waiting to see if Berry would bite.

"I was jealous and angry, and I was being selfish in lashing out. I had no excuse for what I said. I really am sorry, Santana." Rachel said softly, and Santana imagined the girl's large, soft, pleading eyes hoping she'd turn around. So she did. And she was right.

"Look, it's whatever, I've done worse to you. I'm just…I'm sick of this. I need to get out of this hick town, and I'm going to be so busy soon that I'll barely have time for fun. Glee's it. Just be my captain, alright? If you have an issue with me, bring it. My rep makes sure people tell stories and use me all the time to play themselves up without me knowing, and you know…whatever. It's just words, and I'll be gone in a year and a half anyway. I'm tired of this petty shit, though. Glee's the best part of most of our days, and it's your job to make sure it stays that way, alright?" Santana asked, drawing a surprised yet excited expression from Rachel, who nodded cheerfully. "Good, and don't let Lumps control you. He's co-captain, but no one cares. You've always been the group's fucking Northern Star, because we don't know what the hell to do without you. So next time you're thinking of having a hissy fit, just fucking talk to us instead of appreciating the drama of a situation and imploding it."

Santana slid her wrist from Rachel's grasp quickly, but not harshly, and began walking to the doors. "You're better than most people think you are, Santana." She heard Rachel call out, which made her smile just a little bit. She was going home, flower in hand, and had a pretty good idea of who her admirer was. Santana thought it would lessen her interest in the week's festivities thrust upon her, but she kind of just wanted to look at the pictures on the memory card and wait for tomorrow morning. And perhaps put a plan in place to push the envelope. First, though, she had to stop at her locker for a moment.

* * *

Santana was surprisingly getting used to waking up early, and had somehow managed to get eight full hours of sleep, since her father was on call at work and her mother was too drunk to bug her the previous night. The first thing that came to mind was hope; she hoped that her secret admirer would comply with the request she'd made the previous evening before she left. She knew it was a long-shot, someone having to re-write out a letter by hand that early in the morning, instead of just giving her the printed one because it was easier. She wanted to see if her admirer would put in the effort; she'd even show up closer to eight to give them some extra time if they needed it.

Sure, she was about ninety percent certain who it was, but she liked to think that the person didn't know she'd caught on. Santana really didn't want to spook them; outside of that, she wasn't sure exactly what she wanted, but she didn't want them doubting themselves. _And if someone goes through all this effort just to show me they love me…why would I want to tear them down for it? Why not…I don't know, maybe encourage them to step it up a little?_

So there she was, strolling into the school with a smile on her face, kind of excited to see what was going on in her locker. Sure, she still insisted that Valentine's Day was made by breeders in order to sell chocolate and false hope, as well as make people fatter and less attractive, but the attention was nice. For the longest time, she hadn't felt worth knowing; her parents hadn't put in the effort, Quinn did at a surface level, and Britt knew random parts of her, but all that anyone knew about her was knowledge given to them by Santana. That someone put in the time to try and figure Santana out, to learn more about her on their own, was a nice feeling. No one had really done that before.

She opened her locker to find a surprising flower that took her a few seconds to peg. She'd never seen an Edelweiss up close, but she'd learned of it in history class thankfully. It was a strange flower, with a lovely sweet scent, and beside it was a gift wrapped box like on Monday, with a note resting on top. Santana smiled at the hastily written letter, in what looked to be some weird pink gel pen that she would have been tremendously into when she was in fifth grade. It was kind of really cute, especially how clearly nervous the person was while writing it.

_Santana, my heart's desire,_

_I've went to school with you for years, and on the surface I've generally seen a hyper-aggressive, angry girl. I can only imagine there is a reason for you to be as you are, and for the longest time I thought that you resorted to violence whenever you could, simply because you needed an outlet for your pain. Recently, though, I've come to realize that I was wrong, because you aren't always violent, and it isn't always a personally driven event. _

_You care. More than maybe even you like to admit, and certainly more than the rest of the school would admit, but you do. When Kurt was bullied by Karofsky, you tried to help; perhaps not in the most diplomatic way, but there was nothing for you to gain from it. I saw you the odd time shadowing Kurt in the halls, pretending to stake Kurt as prey so David wouldn't steal your 'prize kill'. I saw the times you made cringe-worthy flirtations at the boy to distract him when Kurt was passing by on his way to art class. Of course, I also heard about the quartet of kicks to David's nether regions, which surely put him off from attacking glee. He hasn't since Kurt left, and I feel it is your efforts that have helped with that, something most girls here in school wouldn't dare to do given the difference in your statures. For that, I offered the Edelweiss flower, representing noble courage, because despite your school persona, you embody it._

_You even went against Sue Sylvester countless times under the guise of destroying the club, when instead you were truly strengthening it. It's why I believed you at sectionals that day, and why I still believe in you today. You aren't a perfect individual, I don't love your dips into violence, but I love you, so I offered today's gift in hopes it would help you let your anger out in a healthier manner. I've always felt those hands of yours were made for holding, not hurting._

_I hope this morning finds you well, Santana_

Santana quickly placed the note on her top shelf with the others, and opened her gift, finding a pair of padded sparring gloves. It was an odd gift, for sure, but Santana figured she'd probably get some use out of them at the gym next time she went. Her admirer was right, she did have rage issues, and she resorted to violence too often. Sometimes it was easier to punch things until she was too exhausted or physically hurt than deal with any of the emotional damage she'd been dealt. So the gift was nice, and it would add some much needed spice to her workout regimen.

But her admirer was right. Her hands could be put to better use.

* * *

Santana was kind of pleased with herself; her plan had come to her so easily, so perfectly, that she couldn't wait for her free period. It was Thursday, meaning no glee, so she knew her admirer would end up in the choir room at lunch to practice; Sue and the cheerios were illegally holding the auditorium hostage, which was apparently a thing that was started when Schue accidentally got some of the Vaseline he puts in his hair on Sue.

When Santana got there, she set up the vase of flowers she'd received onto the piano, outside of the lotus, which wouldn't fit. She knew that would catch the person's attention, and she'd leave the winter gloves on top of her coat on one of the chairs, just casually resting there for anyone to see. And finally, Santana had sat herself on the piano bench, mindlessly playing the intro to a song she figured fit her situation well as soon as the lunch bell rang.

Santana wasn't an idiot; she knew Rachel was just half a hallway down from the room, and would power-walk her way in there within seconds. And as she started to sing, she saw the door swing open a little, before not so subtly being pulled back, hiding the petite brunette listening in behind it.

She smiled to herself, knowing Rachel was certainly the type to eavesdrop, and just starting singing along, hoping her bait would be effective.

_Why I should feel this way  
Why I should feel this way  
Why I should feel the same_

_Is something I cannot say_  
_Is something I cannot say_  
_Is something I can't explain_

She started, shaking her head a little as the diva creaked the door open just a little wider; Rachel was obviously sneaking a look, half her face peering out from behind the door. Santana had figured the song would grab the girl's attention; it wasn't really often she'd sing anything so soft, if ever, and she certainly hadn't played piano at school before. It was a small gift, but she knew the diva would appreciate it, even if she didn't think it was a gift at all.

_I feel you…outside, at the edge of my life  
I see you…walk by, at the edge of my sight_

She was tempted to call the girl into the room, but felt that the next verse would have more impact if Rachel still thought she was privately eavesdropping. Santana was sure that Rachel thought she wouldn't let anyone see her publicly in such a way, and she didn't want to turn that on its head. Even if four days of letters, alongside some thoughtful gifts of course, had her feeling that maybe she was worth seeing after all. That maybe she could show more of herself, knowing that someone liked those sides of her for once.

Santana added the little flourish on the keys and let herself sink a little forward on the bench. She'd never had lessons, and was self-taught, so she knew her posture was bad, and her tendency to get a little too into her music while playing just added to that. Music had always been something of a crutch for her; it was the only truly safe place where she felt allowed to feel emotion. So while she was playing the song to bait Berry, it didn't change the whirling emotions rushing through her that the song always stirred up.

_Why I should follow my heart?  
Why I should follow my heart?  
Why I should fall apart?_

_Why I should follow my dreams?_  
_Why I should follow my dreams?_  
_Why I should be at peace?_

She sang tenderly, feeling a little vulnerable at how music brought that out of her. Throughout glee, the group had mostly stuck to upbeat songs, show-tunes and rock classics; songs that were too wrapped up in nostalgia and reputation for her to really feel in that sort of way. She loved singing and dancing in glee, it was a lot of fun, but it never meant that she had to be open, that she had to express herself properly. Santana recalled when she'd considered singing Fleetwood Mac's 'Songbird' to Britt, to really show her how she felt, but that had been dashed when she spotted the girl and Artie having an intense make out session by the eastern stairwell. It only felt fitting that, while she didn't have any incredibly strong romantic feelings for Rachel at the moment, she knew there was potential there. That it kind of already was happening; Rachel wasn't an unattractive girl, and her voice was majestic, and her eyes were kind of like these soft cocoa black holes that drew her in, but she didn't know the person all that well. She liked that Berry was kind, had ambition and initiative, and wasn't a pushover at all. She'd never really considered the girl, even after she came out to herself, because she thought the diva was straight. So, as the previous day's note stated, she was interested in a little adventure.

_I feel you…outside, at the edge of my life  
I see you…walk by, at the edge of my sight_

_I had to let you go, to the setting sun  
I had to let you go, and find a way back home_

_I had to let you go, to the setting sun  
I had to let you go, and find a way back home_

Santana let herself just feel the song with all she had as she played, the song's lyrics floating around in her head. She wasn't sure that doing anything about Rachel was a good idea. The diva had her whole life planned out, she didn't need someone who was hiding in plain sight all the time to distract her. How could she ever get close to loving someone like that without being entirely honest, not only to herself and the diva, but to everyone? Rachel deserved someone who could give her that, and Santana didn't know if she could, at least while they were in Lima. Wouldn't she have to let Rachel go first? Wouldn't she have to figure herself out, be comfortable with who she was underneath everything, before even trying anything with anyone?

_When I dream all I see is you…  
When I dream all I see is…_

_I've never seen a light that's so bright  
I've never seen a light that's so bright  
I've never seen a light that's so bright_

_Blinded by the light that's inside  
Blinded by the light that's inside  
Blinded by the light that's inside you…_

Santana allowed herself a small piano solo, one she'd been working on for weeks at home, only slightly modified to accommodate the present song choice. She couldn't help but wonder what was on the diva's mind, and how she'd eventually come into the room, because there was no way the brunette would be scared off. She'd enter eventually, and Santana would corner her a little bit when the opportunity arose.

_I had to let you go…to the setting sun.  
I had to let you go…and find a way back home…_

Santana let her hands rest on the keys as she let the sustained notes ride out. In her head, she counted down from fourteen, figuring Berry would do a ten count, and then when it ran out, do a three count. She'd noticed it before back in sophomore year, and hoped she'd be right and wouldn't have to wait any longer than that.

As she had predicted, the diva burst into the room fifteen seconds later in full power-walk mode, though it was clear she was a little flustered, a hint of a pinkish blush on her cheeks. After about nine steps, Rachel stopped still in her tracks, feigning surprise; if Santana hadn't seen the diva spying outside, she probably would have believed her. The girl's acting abilities were kind of scary.

"Santana! I…Why are you here?" Rachel exclaimed, a dramatic hand clutching her chest to emphasize the shock and everything.

"Just practicing. I don't have much space at home, so I figured with my free period and lunch hour merged, I'd stick around here." Santana noted calmly, looking at Rachel to see if she could see through the girl's mask, at what was going on behind those big brown eyes.

Rachel's eyes scanned the room, probably for a chair, and Santana noticed the girl's gaze caught for a half second on the gloves, before her focus slipped back to Santana and the vase in front of her.

"I wasn't aware you played piano. As…as your captain, it would have been beneficial for you to inform me." Rachel noted as she stepped a little closer, eying up the flowers.

"And as my captain, I'd like your feedback on what I played." Santana retorted with a smirk, holding up a hand when Rachel's mouth opened in a feigned disbelief. "I saw you hiding behind the door, Berry. Whatever, you aren't Puck or Quinn, so it's alright. I know you won't laugh at me or anything."

Rachel's blush went full fire-truck red, the diva clearly embarrassed. "I just…I heard someone playing and I really wanted to see who it was because Brad doesn't play without a prompt and then I saw you and I couldn't believe it and it was so beautiful and…"

Santana ambled off the bench and moved over to Berry's rambling self, mussing up her hair a little before plopping down on one of the seats in the room. "Cap'n, you really need to calm down, I'm not going to kill you. You caught me on a good day for once."

Rachel shot her an annoyed glare as she fixed her hair, her expression dropping into one that was a lot more insecure looking that Santana had expected. "I'm sure with Valentine's Day tomorrow, you must be swimming in date invitations and confessions of love." Rachel mumbled, just loud and clear enough for Santana to catch. She laughed at the girl's naivety, drawing a confused look from the diva, who, in dramatic fashion, put her hands on her hips and tried to look a little angry. She failed, she just looked kind of adorable. "You don't need to laugh, I know how things go around school this time of the year."

"Rachel, you think I get valentines from people because they love me? People want to fuck me, use me, and throw me away like tomorrow's trash." Santana spoke, ignoring Rachel's appalled expression as she continued. "You think I've been asked out on a date without the assumption that there'd be sex later that night? Doesn't happen. It's never happened. Whatever…"

It was a disappointing reality; even with Britt, she'd never really gone out on a nice date. All of their dates were at the duck pond, or in one of their bedrooms. She'd always wanted someone to be interested in her for her, but she knew it had been impossible, seeing as she never let anyone see her, not really.

"But…you're a popular girl…" Rachel started before trailing off, her eyes locking onto the flowers. "Do…do you bring flowers to school often? I was here this morning and they weren't on the piano."

Santana remained quiet for a few moments until Rachel returned her gaze onto the ex-cheerleader. "Can you keep a secret?" Santana asked, knowing Rachel did enjoy secrets. The diva liked when people trusted her. Rachel nodded slowly, her expression fighting to remain calm, which Santana thought was most amusing. "This week, someone's been sneaking into my locker and…they've been leaving me all this stuff. Like…handwritten notes and little sentimental gifts and flowers that apparently represent me, and I'm having a hard time wrapping my mind around it."

Rachel stepped forward and sat down beside her, giving her an inquisitive look, before returning her gaze to the flowers. "Why is it so hard?" Rachel asked quietly, and Santana spotted the girl's hand constantly lifting from the lap they were rested in, as if she wanted to touch Santana, but didn't think it would be allowed. It was sweet.

"I'm not nice here. I'm mean and horrible, it's what keeps me on my feet. I just have a hard time believing anyone would care enough to try and figure me out like they have…and they have. Some stranger knows me better than my parents do…it's unnerving and flattering, and I don't know what to think." Santana continued, turning her head to look at Rachel. "I've had people want to fuck me, people lust after me, people want to be friends with me for status. But…love? That doesn't happen to people like me."

Rachel was quiet for a moment before she placed a small, rather feminine hand on Santana's thigh. "Is that why you sang that song?" the diva asked, her eyes making Santana want to just spill everything and tell her the truth. She knew she had to keep some form of composure, though.

"I just…look, they're hiding behind slips of paper they send me, and I'm hiding behind my head bitch in charge face. I just don't see how anything could work if I can't be honest and open with them, you know? And it could be anyone here at school. They can hide, but they still see me. They just…I know I'm a hard-ass bitch, but am I really so scary that even the people who feel they might love me are too afraid to even talk to me?" Santana explained, shaking her head slowly. "There's one day left, and then I'm going to be back to where I was a week ago. And they'll go back to loving me from afar or whatever, because they can, and I'll be left wondering why they told me if they weren't even going to ask me to be their date at that Breadstix thing tomorrow night. If someone put themselves out there for me, maybe I'd be able to just…let go, you know?" Santana internally prayed that Rachel would take the last bit of obvious bait she tossed out there. She wanted an invite, desperately. She wanted someone to make the effort. She wanted Rachel to make the effort.

"Santana, sometimes…sometimes people get scared of rejection. You go through the halls and hurt people daily. Maybe the person was scared that instead of being able to talk to the real you, they'd be met with Snix." Rachel stated, fumbling with her words a little, her nerves clearly getting to her. "I'll be attending the party tomorrow night, and…and if your valentine doesn't invite you, I'd love to be your…well, date would be the more popularly used term, but if you are opposed to that, then..."

Santana gave a good natured smile to the diva and squeezed the small hand on her thigh. "Oh captain, my captain. Sounds like fun, Berry." Santana noted quietly, enjoying the bright, nervous smile on the smaller girl's face, the diva clearly trying not to look too excited. "You're a really good listener, you know? I can't remember why I was ever mean to you for so long." She finished, getting up from her chair. Santana moved wordlessly over to the piano and sat down on the bench, before looking expectantly at Rachel. "So…you come here to practice, right? Anything I can help with?"

* * *

Friday morning came more quickly than Santana had thought. She'd enjoyed her time with Rachel for the rest of the lunch period, and once school was over, she finished her homework and then zonked out on her bed, only to wake the next morning at four. She was really early, certainly, but it gave her even more time to put her day's plan into motion. She knew the school's doors opened at six thirty; on top of that, Finn had once mentioned that Rachel woke up on school days at six o'clock exactly, and often arrived at or around seven. Which meant she had three hours to get up the guts to do what she figured would win her some major points with Berry, and would at least make glee a less hostile home for her. Santana had done a lot of thinking after that lunch period, and while she knew she wasn't in love with Berry, she knew that so long as the diva wasn't rambling furiously or being overbearing, she kind of really liked her, and wanted to give her a shot.

So when she got to school at six thirty on the dot and slipped her note into Rachel's locker, there were barely any people around aside from the janitors. Just like how no one was around when she placed the note and small package of vegan oatmeal raisin cookies on Rachel's desk in homeroom, confident the girl would show up first. It was a small gesture, and she was playing on the notion that Rachel thought that Santana thought her calligraphy skills were secret. She'd taken great enjoyment writing them all, and hoped that the student council would hold to their word and hand out valentines at the start of every class. Santana had noticed how downcast Rachel had looked when talking about valentines during their lunch hour get together, and wanted her to feel special for the day, because Rachel had made her feel special all week long, even if it was confusing at first.

She slipped out of school and drove around, grabbing breakfast before returning around quarter to eight. Her body was practically vibrating as she got to her locker, her hands fumbling the lock twice due to the familiar and pleasant scent before she managed to get it open. An amused laugh escaped her as she took in the sight of a neatly arranged mountain of lifesaver rolls, surrounded by white lilacs covering the inside of her main shelf, with a folded note atop it. _Berry, you're absolutely ridiculous…_

Life savers. They had been her candy of choice for years; they were small enough that she could eat them in class without drawing any attention, and when she'd gotten to high school, they were the only bit of sugar she could sneak through Sue Sylvester's surprise pat down checks. It was more or less one of the few candies she liked, seeing as how she preferred baked goods more, and she found it sweet and hilarious that the diva got her twenty one rolls of it. Santana breathed in the moment, enjoying the scent of the flowers, the promise of sweet candy, and the knowledge that there was one last note. She kind of didn't want to open it, because she didn't want it to be the last one.

Eventually, her curiosity beat out the defensive side of her mind, and she slowly unfolded the patiently and passionately written note.

_Santana, my heart's desire,_

_I love you. While lilacs seemed perfect for both of us, it reminded me of when this all started for me. I remember clearly in seventh grade, you leaving the school ground during recess to sit in Ms. Reynolds' front yard by her white lilacs whenever Brittany wasn't around. They seemed special to you then, and they symbolized how I'd started feeling about you. It seems like an odd coincidence, white lilacs symbolizing one's first dream of love. Yet there you were, late May in seventh grade and I swear I'd never thought about love until I'd seen you just sitting there, nestled into those lilacs, eyes closed with a soft peaceful smile on your face. Before anyone else, you were the first person I ever dreamed that I could love, and I'm sorry I wasn't strong enough to tell you then, just like I'm sorry that I didn't tell you when I first knew I loved you. My dad had just gotten home, he spends the first few hours of Christmas morning at his friend's restaurant (they host an annual meal giveaway for needy families), and mentioned that he saw you volunteering. It was six in the morning on Christmas day, and I thought that there was no way Santana Lopez would be up so early. But when I got there and looked around, there you were. You were in the kitchen, preparing meals for people to take home, and you looked so happy. Your smile was breathtaking. I had been fighting my feelings for you for years, being dishonest about them because I was scared that the person I dreamed I could love had withered away across the years, but I just knew when I saw you, and I couldn't deny it anymore. It was as if I walked out of a fog and finally found you again, found the truth._

_And I really don't want to lose sight of you again, even if you don't think you could ever feel the same way. If you give me a chance, I'll show you you're worth so much more than what Lima has given you. Santana Lopez, would you do me the honour of meeting me at Breadstix tonight at seven, at one of the tables for two alongside the booths? If nothing else, we can have a nice meal and some entertainment._

_I hope this morning finds you well, Santana_

Santana took a deep breath as she moved to sit, not confident her legs would hold her all that well anymore. Her brain kept flashing back to all the days in elementary when she had hid away in Ms. Reynolds' yard by the lilacs. It was her safe spot; Ms Reynolds was her mother's oldest friend, and whenever she was feeling bad, she'd go there and let the scent of the lilacs relax her. Whenever Britt was bullied so much she was scared to leave the house. Whenever Britt was bullied so much she got sick or hurt, and had to stay home. Whenever she felt like she'd failed her best friend. Whenever her parents fought and scared her. Whenever she'd get a bad grade and she'd worry about telling her parents. Whenever she was just feeling lonely and weak. Whenever she was scared she'd have to change in order to be safer. Whenever she felt unlovable.

That yard was her sanctuary, she even returned there often during freshman year, when she was still dealing with the growing pains of popularity, her public persona and the reputation it gained her. Not that she wasn't more of a bitch; her parents made sure of that, constantly making her lose sleep and riling her up into bad moods just so they'd have another person to vent and yell at. Santana had decided to take after her abuela as a coping method, even knowing the old woman only acted as she did because she had for so long that it was expected of her. It was a short-sighted plan that led into long term problems, problems she needed to shed soon. Santana wasn't sure she could fully wait until senior year.

But with some help, she felt good about her chances.

* * *

Rachel Berry had never been so nervous. She had performed in exactly eighty four competitions, four school plays, and twelve music theatre camp shows, but those were nothing compared to how she felt that morning after dropping off Santana's valentine, the last step of 'Operation: V-Day'. Her heart was thudding against her chest as she quickly made her way to her locker, resting against it for a few moments in an attempt to calm herself. It didn't work.

She'd taken the plunge. The previous day's run in with Santana at lunch had been illuminating and heartbreaking; the song had been majestically melancholy, and hearing that Santana had never been properly asked out was horrifying. Most of her life, she'd known the confident, snarky Santana, but beneath that veneer was a girl that worried whether she could be wanted like that, and Rachel couldn't help but feel tremendously guilty for not having let the girl know that she did. That she'd wanted and liked her like that for years.

Wanting to avoid as much contact with the ex-cheerleader as much as possible, Rachel logged in her mind the books she'd need to carry with her until lunch as she opened her locker door. She almost missed the roll of parchment that had been resting on her chemistry textbook, as she'd been midway through grabbing it when she saw it roll off and slip behind her neatly organized stack of textbooks.

Deciding to be efficient, Rachel grabbed all of her books and shoved them into her backpack, before grabbing the parchment and proceeding to home room. It was still quite early, and usually she'd be singing, but she really felt too nervous for any sort of activity, and she had a strange note in her hands. When she strolled quickly into her homeroom and saw a purple tin covered in yellow stars on her desk, she almost had a heart-attack. The note was suspicious enough, seeing as she'd never been given anything for Valentine's Day in her life aside from the odd lewd message by Jacob Ben Israel, often written on a stained scrap of paper; she'd never been given Valentine's Day gifts before, yet there was something waiting on her desk.

Rachel looked around to see if there could have been a mistake before cautiously approaching her desk, noticing then that there was a small folded note resting beside it. Curious, she unfolded it, revealing possibly the most alluring penmanship she'd seen in years. Rachel wasn't sure if she could smile any wider and brighter than she already was, reading the note that simply said "They're vegan. Please, be selfish and don't share, even if just for today", signed off with an ornately drawn heart at the bottom right hand corner in a plethora of red and black inks. Her heart felt like it would burst, she was so happy, knowing the sweet Santana was still inside there, that she'd listened and noticed her mood the previous day. Knowing the girl did that, just to make her feel better, was more than she could have honestly hoped for.

She opened the container, finding a dozen oatmeal raisin cookies; Rachel hadn't expected anyone to have made her anything, but it was even more of a surprise to have found that someone had very freshly baked her favourite cookies. While Rachel was certain the recipes and taste would differ to some degree, she operated under the fact of life that all vegan oatmeal raisin cookies were worth being selfish for.

Quietly and happily, she snacked away, knowing it probably wasn't the healthiest of snacks, but that it was Valentine's Day, and she deserved to enjoy the first Valentine's Day gift she'd been given from anyone outside of her parents. Once she was finished eating half the scrumptious cookies, the tin safely packed away for later, she released the ribbon securing parchment and unrolled it. The letter-work was just gorgeous; she had memories of the girl's calligraphy, she even still had the invitation in her room, but it was clear that Santana had improved drastically. The message was simple, but the way she wrote it exuded a level of passion and confidence that Rachel hadn't known could ever be directed toward her. Much like the other note, there was an ornately drawn heart in the corner, though it was different than the last.

_You once said that being a part of something special made a person special. Myself, I've come to find that being near you all of these years has helped make me special, because you, Rachel, are more than special. You're a star. You guide us, you light up our lives, you give warmth when we're cold, and your generous love reminds us what to strive for when we feel like settling._

_Above all, you are cherished._

Rachel desperately tried not to melt in her seat as she read the words again and again. Santana cherished her. She'd thought the girl was simply poor with expressing her feelings for much of her life, but recently she'd begun to question that. The note she held confirmed that Santana Lopez could be gloriously charming and sweet when she felt like it, and Rachel kind of really wanted to frame both of the notes. They were pieces of art, to her, and no matter how the rest of the day went, she'd at least be able to look back and say that the girl she loved felt fondly for her once.

"Hey Rachel, what's that?" she heard Tina ask as her glee friend waltzed into homeroom, early as usual. Rachel wasn't sure what to do with the note she was holding, and by the time Tina came and looked over her shoulder, any decision she could have wanted to make was very much irrelevant. "Oh my god, that's gorgeous!"

Rachel just nodded sheepishly, her eyes unable to look away from the lettering, or the elegant borders that had been drawn around the message. It was stunning in all ways, and she wasn't sure what to do about it. Her brain was still catching up. "It's…a valentine…" Rachel stammered quietly, her free hand pointing to the other, smaller note. "I got cookies." she finished breathlessly.

Tina immediately pulled over the desk next to her and sat in it so she could get an easier look at it all. "Wow, who even does this sort of thing anymore? Is that all hand-drawn? Did a time traveler from some place in medieval Britain fall in love with you?" Tina asked softly; though her words were in jest, she was clearly in awe of the work. "Who do you think gave you it?"

Rachel blushed at the thought of telling them it was Santana, but she didn't feel up to telling anyone the girl's hobby. There had to be a reason she wasn't well known for her calligraphy, so Rachel kept quiet on the matter. "I'm not sure. Someone in glee, though, probably." Rachel answered, using all of her willpower to roll up the parchment and place the ribbon back on it. Class would start soon enough, and she didn't want her note to be wrecked.

"Wow. Well…wow. Someone seriously has a crush on you, Rachel." Tina noted thoughtfully, nodding at her own thoughts. Rachel's eyes lit up at the mere thought of Santana possibly returning her affections on a similar level, something she didn't expect, or dare to hope.

"You really think so?" she asked shyly, hoping for any reassurance she could gain. She knew it would hurt if the other girl turned out to be wrong, but she really just wanted to enjoy the moment and the hope of something more.

"I do, but…it's just this couldn't be Finn. And Sam's taken. Artie's taken. Mike's taken and he can't draw a stick figure dog, so he can't do that. It's not Puck either…so who is it?" Tina wondered openly. Rachel allowed the girl to consider the possibilities while she sneaked another cookie out, savouring the deliciousness. Despite her nerves and anxiety, it was already the best Valentine's Day she'd ever had, by far.

The day passed quickly, Rachel's head stuck in an embarrassing haze from the regular valentines she received each class; every note with a single sentence about why Rachel was cherished. She found it so hard to think that she feared she'd have to borrow Tina's notes to catch up. Rachel figured that even if she had to, she'd have the weekend, but it was still more than a little embarrassing. It was only at the start of glee where things came to a head.

After homeroom, word spread among the gleeks that she'd gotten a valentine; Rachel tried not to pay too much attention to what they'd say, thinking it was more disbelief than excitement for her, and she didn't want that to ruin anything. She was successful, at least until Kurt and Mercedes swarmed her in glee about it. They were both speaking so fast, and saying so many things, Quinn was giving her weird looks, Tina was wide-eyed beside her in excitement, Finn just looked really confused, and Rachel didn't know what to do at all. It was all overwhelming, and it wasn't the sort of attention she really appreciated.

"Wheezy, Lady Face, good job showing Berry your breath control, but if you don't give her room to speak, you're going to seriously break her record of rambling for six minutes straight that she did in sophomore year... and I don't think you two want to share that title." Rachel heard Santana call out as she waltzed into the choir room, a small smirk on her face, her presence silencing the two in front of her momentarily. "The school is positively abuzz about your valentine, Berry, but I heard it wasn't done by singing telegram, so I can't imagine you were entirely impressed."

Rachel blushed at the thought of a singing telegram valentine; in truth, she'd kind of always wanted one of those, but she wouldn't tell Santana that the valentine she'd received wasn't perfect. It was better than almost any singing telegram that she could imagine. "I…well, it…it was… perfect actually."

"Can we see it? I need to see whatever this is that has Rachel Berry stumbling over her words!" Kurt exclaimed in a slightly demanding tone that she wasn't outright fond of, but could understand. She'd been excited for Kurt when he'd gotten his mystery valentines as well, and had wanted to know all about them.

Sighing, she reached into her backpack, her hand closing around the familiar parchment. "Just be careful with it. It…it's art." She noted shyly, pulling out the roll and handing it to Kurt. The boy looked at it suspiciously for a moment before unrolling it, his eyes bulging as he scanned over the contents.

"Oh my god…" Mercedes breathed as she stared at the valentine.

"I told you I wasn't joking." Tina noted smugly, crossing her arms over her chest indignantly; apparently Mercedes hadn't believed her, but Rachel didn't care too much about that. She just didn't want her prized possession to be damaged.

"Someone in Lima does calligraphy?" Kurt asked, still staring at the valentine in disbelief.

"They gave me vegan cookies too. And smaller notes in each of my classes." Rachel noted quietly, pulling a cookie from her tin to snack on, deciding not to show any of the other notes, which had been too private for her to feel comfortable showing, even if they were PG. Her nerves were really getting to her, and she didn't fail to notice Santana was still standing around, looking oddly at the valentine.

The taller raven-haired girl took a look over Kurt's shoulder, her eyes darting over the script as if she was reading it for the first time, her mouth quirking up into a small smile as she moved her gaze from it to Rachel. "Awww, someone cherishes Berry. Seriously fancy shit… you must have entranced some fortunate soul with your siren song, tiny." Santana said playfully before walking over to her usual seat.

"Do you have any idea who it's from?" Kurt asked, slowly rolling the parchment up and handing it back to Rachel.

"I…might conduct an investigation." Rachel admitted, blushing, though her investigation would be approaching Santana about it later that night. And possibly showing her how much she appreciated it. "It just feels nice to get one. It's my first one since second grade."

"Girl, someone really likes you, which I can kind of understand, I guess. So if you need our help just ask, alright?" Mercedes asked, clearly excited about having something to gossip about as she and Kurt went to their seats. As she watched them leave, she couldn't help but notice Quinn was giving Santana a puzzling look.

Glee came and went uneventfully; she'd wanted to sing a song to express how happy she was, and perhaps how romantic of a mood she was in, but Mr. Schuester had let basically everyone else sing instead, stating that Rachel always got to sing, so she could wait it out. It was kind of depressing, and the fact that Santana seemed to be fuming a little bit didn't escape her attention. The ex-cheerleader had also requested to sing, but Schuester had stated he wanted to cap the week off without drama, which was hypocritical in Rachel's eyes, as he was single-handedly creating drama by saying that.

Glee eventually let out, and most quickly made their escape, either excited for their dates, or for the event later that night at Breadstix. Rachel thought she was the last in the room, packing up the sheet music neatly into her bag when a gentle hand rested on her shoulder.

"Hey, I…" Santana started, looking a little nervous, her cheeks surprisingly carrying a faint pink tint. "I can't do tonight, I…well, I got asked. So…is that alright? I just don't want you to feel left out or anything."

Rachel couldn't help but smile brightly at Santana, it was surprising that the girl was worried for her, and she honestly couldn't wait to surprise her at the restaurant. "I'll be fine, Santana. Thank you for your concern, I'm just elated that your valentine decided to ask you out. Are you excited?"

Santana clearly fought to suppress a smile, shrugging in an attempt to play off her obvious excitement. "I'm looking forward to it. I don't know what to expect or anything, it's all new for me."

"Well, I hope they treat you like you deserve to be, Santana." Rachel said earnestly as she stood, grabbing her backpack. "I'll see you there?"

Santana nodded, giving Rachel a small wave as she turned and walked out of the choir room. She couldn't help the excited giggle that escaped her. _Only a few hours left!_

* * *

Santana showed up uncharacteristically early, but she felt it would be appropriate; she wanted to see Rachel walk in. She wanted to surprise her for once, with the bouquet she'd hand-picked an hour and a half earlier. Santana hadn't expected to have much luck, but it seemed that as long as she didn't want roses, anything else she could have wanted was ripe for the taking.

So there she stood, waiting by a table for two as the Breadstix staff and the Warblers set everything up throughout the restaurant. Santana knew the place was still fairly casual dining, but she'd decided to dress up a little bit for the occasion; it might have been a bit silly, but she really did want to make a good impression, and she wanted to look as special as the girl she was waiting for had made her feel. So perhaps she was overly formal in her lilac halter dress but it was her favourite, and she needed as many things as she could to help soothe her nerves. It was weird, being nervous about Rachel Berry, of all people, but she was and there wasn't much of anything that she could do about it. There wasn't any wall she could put up that the girl wouldn't see through. She was just nervous, and had to deal with it.

And her nerves only got worse when the clock ticked past seven, making Rachel late for probably one of the only times in her life. People had started filing into the restaurant by that point, some giving her strange looks, but most were pre-occupied. Quinn, it seemed, couldn't help but flick her gaze over to her occasionally from where she sat with Finn, looking positively perplexed. Santana just rolled her eyes and kept waiting, trying desperately to keep from filing her nails, her nervous habit. She needed to be calm.

As soon as she saw Rachel enter, all semblance of calm left her, her right hand grabbing for the bouquet and bringing it behind her, securing her grip with her left, to keep from dropping it. It was funny; in her head, she'd planned everything out, but she couldn't remember anything as Rachel walked in her direction, holding a single gardenia. Santana felt a shy smile spread across her face at the sight.

"Gardenia…nice choice, Berry." Santana said, hoping her playfulness would hide how nervous she was as Rachel slowly walked up to her. The diva's eyes were so large and expressive, and she could see all the girl's anxieties and worries in them, but also her determination. It made her take a small step toward her, bending down a little to take in the scent of the flower. "Secret love…I guess you found a date, then."

As she straightened her posture again, she saw Rachel gulp and hold the flower out in offering. "I suppose I have." The girl said with a bright smile, her eyes glimmering in emotion. Santana , feeling a little more confident and less nervous after seeing how hopeful Rachel was, took the flower in her left hand, breathing it in again before dropping down to give the diva a chaste kiss on the cheek.

Santana found the deep red blush pooling across Rachel's face entirely endearing as she brought the bouquet out from behind her and offered it to the diva. "I…figured you let me know how you feel, so I'd do the same."

Rachel took the flowers hazily, her eyes never leaving Santana's face. It was kind of funny and flattering to have made her so awestruck, so she just went along with her plan, feeling that if she didn't, she'd mess something up sooner or later. Santana pointed to the purple sprigs of flowers first. "Purple Hyacinths…my mother used to grow these and give them to me when she missed my birthday, or after an argument. They basically mean 'forgive me, I'm sorry', and I have a lot to be sorry for when it comes to you."

Her hands drifted over to a group of round, rosy flowers with a lot of petals, her eyes unable to look at Rachel until she was done explaining, for fear of just forgetting what she was doing in the first place if she strayed. "Ranunculus. I…it's a flower that's given when you've been affected by someone's charms. And while it was kind of creepy and weird at the start of the week, you've won my undivided attention, Berry." She spoke, her mind flashing across all the mornings. She couldn't pin-point a moment when she felt confident that she wanted to pursue anything with the girl, but it happened along the way, and that's all that was important. Her hand slipped over to a tall sprig of deep blue flowers next. "These are Larkspurs, one of my favourites. I think they come from Africa, but they can grow pretty much anywhere and I guess that's why they symbolize a person's open heart. Because you opened yours to me, and I want to open mine to you…and maybe down the road I can just keep it open for once. For the first time in a long time, you make me feel that I can do that."

She heard a sniffle in front of her, and noticed Rachel cover her face a bit with her hand, but she pressed on, needing to get her thoughts out in the open. Her hand moved to a white and pink flower. "These are almond blossoms, they represent hope…I've spent the last five years being this badass mega bitch because everyone's made me feel like I have to protect myself from them. It's only been a week, but I can't shake the feeling that you're safe. That…well, you've always been safe, I just didn't see it until recently. So I hope that I can be myself around you, and I hope that we can build something because…"

Santana's hand drifted to the final set of flowers, a bright yellow six-petaled group that looked like daffodils, just a bit smaller. "I picked these Jonquils to show that I have some feelings for you too, and I'm open to your love." Santana finished, looking up at a teary eyed, furiously blushing Rachel Barbra Berry. Using her hands to remove Rachel's from her face, she took a step forward into the diva's personal space. "I just, I need to know something."

Rachel gave her a slightly baffled look, but it didn't last for long; Santana lifted the girl's chin with her fingertips and brought their lips together, and suddenly everything changed. She'd wanted a gentle kiss, she was too nervous to do anything more than that, and she really didn't want to sexualize anything at that point because she was still somewhat unsure, but Rachel was electric. It was as if the diva was made of energy by how her lips felt, how they sent a shiver of some tangled mess of emotions through her, and all she wanted was to keep kissing her so that maybe Rachel could help her sort through it all.

Eventually, her lungs started to hurt, and she realized she probably needed to breathe, so she pulled back, admiring the closed-eyed expression of pure unadulterated joy on Berry's face. Santana had never seen that look on a person's face before, and she felt amazing, knowing she'd done that. That someone was that happy, because of her. "Yeah…that's all I needed to know, I guess." She mumbled to herself, unable to control the enormous grin she was sporting. "Since Wednesday, I've just been kind of worried how it'd feel but it's…it feels right."

Rachel's eyes fluttered open, stray tears spilling from them as the girl smiled confusedly at her. "Wednesday?" the diva choked out, placing the bouquet on the table beside them with one hand, caressing Santana's cheek with the other, which was surprisingly nice. Britt generally didn't do that, none of the guys had either, and Rachel's hands were so soft and warm.

"When you admitted you were jealous of the football jocks." Santana noted playfully, leaning into the diva's hand slightly, before gesturing for the both of them to sit.

"I…was I that transparent?" Rachel asked, trying to shake off her shock and embarrassment as she took her seat.

"Not with just that, but the rambling notes, as sweet and verbose as they were, kind of added to my suspicions. And I knew your family had gotten the invites I did in seventh grade, and it didn't take long to narrow the list down. You saying that sealed it." Santana explained as Rachel's eyes widened. "I'll admit, I don't know how you found out I did the invitations, you're the only person aside from my parents that knows now."

Rachel ducked her head a little, though Santana wasn't sure why. "My dad asked yours if the person who did the calligraphy would help with his brother's upcoming wedding, and somewhere along the line you were mentioned. But when he asked my uncle, he said he already had it covered, so they didn't ask again…but I kind of just thought it was really pretty, and didn't know you could do that sort of thing until then."

"Oh. Well, I figured it was Quinn at first, because she's as nosy as I am sometimes, and she always snoops around my room whenever I'm not around. But I knew she was straight…and I kind of thought you were too, but…well, I guess we all hide parts of ourselves, for better or worse." Santana remarked, sitting back in her chair, happily rolling her gardenia around between two of her index finger and thumb.

Rachel nodded for a moment and then froze, blushing yet again. It was a good look on her. "You knew that I knew about your calligraphy when you sent your valentines." The girl noted breathlessly, and Santana could only nod and let a shy smile grace her lips. "And you knew it was me when we talked in the choir room on Thursday." Santana just nodded again, enjoying the pout on the girl's lips. "I…I'm not sneaky at all."

Santana laughed at the comment and brought her hand across the table for Rachel to take, which she promptly did. "You were kind of sneaky…you broke into my locker after all, and you found out all of that stuff about me that I try not to show. I'm just really perceptive when I know what I want." She said, hoping to reassure the girl across from her, who still shared an expression that kids would have if their scoop of ice-cream fell off their cone. "And I kind of wanted to get you out here, and I didn't want to take a chance at you not asking me. So…I may have baited you a little bit. I didn't want you to be scared of me anymore. I wanted to see you."

Rachel's pout had transformed into one of her thousand watt smiles, and Santana just breathed it in, glad that the girl was calmer now, less nerve-wracked. "Santana, I…" Rachel started, using both of her hands to cup Santana's lone one. "I love you. I…I really needed to say that. I love you." The girl finished, trying her best to stifle her giddiness as she spoke, wide-eyed and hopeful. In that moment, all Santana saw was Rachel. Not Kurt, pale and wide-eyed in shock. Not Finn or Quinn, both looking hurt and thoughtful respectively over the pair of girls across the aisle from them. Not Sam or Artie, who just looked entirely bewildered with the development. Not Brittany, who smiled adoringly at the both of them. Not Puck, who was busy leering at them until Lauren practically knocked him off his chair. Not Mercedes, who looked catatonic, mouth gaping open as she mindlessly texted someone. Not Tina, who was frantically pointing to the pair and whispering to Mike about them.

Santana placed the flower down and covered Rachel's hands, the girl's words echoing around in her head. "I think I could love you too."

* * *

**A/N: Figured that I could post some fluffy fluff :) I know it's far from valentine's day, but hey, whatever. I write what I want, when I want, which often means I write about winter during the summer, and summer during the winter. :P**

**I also just wanted to post my first extensive one-shot. I did this story in mostly a single sitting (everything but the final section, I was just too sleepy that night to finish). No outline at all, just pure inspiration and motivation. Usually when I get weird inspiration like this, I write outlines, but lately I've taken to, when I make a snap judgment on the fic's potential length, usually just starting the story and seeing where it goes.  
**

**Also, Province reference at the start of this one, because I could. ;) Also, it's been a while since high school, and I couldn't remember when school started, so I googled it, and it turns out that some schools start and end at really weird hours, so I decided to just go with 8:30. Because I think that's when my classes started in high school, but I can't be 100% sure. Might have been 8:20.**

**Oh, and the song was "Untouchable, part 2" by Anathema. youtube dot com/watch?v=M0tkGtYpKJ0**


	6. Tease

_50 Words in 30 Days Keyword:_** #3 "Tease"**  
**A/N: This is a continuation of the one-shot "Denial"**

* * *

For the past few months, the air around McKinley High had been absolutely stinking of lemons. Pressed lemons, specifically, and it was starting to really aggravate Santana. Not that she wasn't a tiny bit of a hypocrite, still being in the closet, but at least she accepted herself. The stink of repression had been getting to her, and the sole source of it was the one and only Quinn Fabray.

Now, Santana had been close friends with the blonde for years, and the girl was practically an open book to her. Even when she wasn't specifically sure what was going through the girl's head, she always knew when Quinn was thinking about something 'wrong', because she'd wall up in a wonderfully flustered way that often had other students fleeing in terror. Once, that had been amusing, but the past month and a half had been difficult with Quinn slipping into those moods far more frequently than normal. And never let anyone say that Santana Lopez' gaydar was anything but exceptional. So she decided she'd make it her goal to un-press Fabgay's lemons with a teensy bit of teasing.

Because honestly, it wasn't even a well kept secret that Quinn would ogle her and the other Cheerios. The girl wasn't even discreet about it, and it was a wonder that the rumour mill hadn't picked up on her behaviour. The blonde had been staring at her ass and legs for so long that it was just natural for Santana to notice and perhaps show them off a bit. Heck, when she came back from her 'summer surgery', Quinn was definitely the first one to bestow upon her all the attention she'd craved, giving her sweater puppies a good ten second stare-down before the blonde ran red-faced off to Coach Sue. Sure, Quinn got her kicked down to the bottom of the pyramid and all, but Santana just figured that the girl simply didn't want to have the opportunity to look up and stare at her goods. Santana had gotten over most of her insecurities, at least ones about her body, and she absolutely knew she was hot shit. It was kind of awesome sometimes.

No idea could come to fruition without a plan, and if Santana was going to get Quinn to admit that her lady loins got wet and wild over other ladies, she needed a good plan of action. She knew that Quinn had been trying to get back on her good side in recent weeks, and Santana's hypothesis was mostly that it was an attempt to get her not to be so aggressive with the blonde; she'd often get in the girl's personal space during their tiffs, occasionally grabbing her, and it always resulted in some pink cheeks and a curious reaction. Too curious for her to truly ignore any longer, not with the blonde blazing a warpath through the school and making her the second most feared HBIC in school. That simply wouldn't do. So she spent her breaks practically glued to Quinn's side all day long, sharing whispered gossip in the blonde's ear. On top of that, she couldn't help but dance to a Shakira song in glee, practically giving the blonde a lap dance, as the girl had refused to get out of her seat during the number. Everyone seemed to take it as good fun, but Quinn's eyes were practically on fire.

So when she left Sue's office, the coach smiling maniacally at the prospect of a 'practice-from-hell' to prepare the squad for state championships, she knew that she'd be able to lure Quinn exactly where she wanted her. The blonde, when flustered and furious, was pretty damn talkative. Santana figured that if she pressed all the girl's buttons in the right way, she would explode on her and could get the blonde to finally admit she was at least bisexual. And maybe then, her friend wouldn't be so outrageously stressed and pressed.

Of course, Santana didn't really expect Coach to have set the field around them on fire once they were all congregated inside, but she supposed it wasn't the biggest surprise either. They'd worked with fire before in their performances, so being trapped in a field by a foot deep line of fire around the track was just a bit extra. If anything, it made her sweat more, and Quinn tended to stare more often and longer when her skin was glistening. Silently, she thanked her coach-slash-warmaster.

Practice was absolute hell, as she'd expected it to be. Even being arguably the fittest person outside of Brittany on the squad, it was difficult to keep from collapsing. Still, Santana knew she had a goal to accomplish. She was practically glued to Quinn's side for all two hours of the extended practice, making excuses to help Quinn, or to get Q to help her; often, she cited that they were the two strongest members of the squad and that they should set an example for the others, something Sue agreed with vehemently, much to Quinn's dismay. Santana was constantly lifting Quinn during the exercises, occasionally being active with her hands when she could get away with it, as well as running directly ahead of the blonde while running laps. She figured that if Quinn was an ass girl, she'd appreciate it. Besides, it was Quinn who kept the mantra of 'It's all about the teasing, not about the pleasing'. Santana figured it was time for the girl to get her just desserts.

Eventually, they got to the end of the practice, both of them collapsing after performing admirably at the shuttle run, Brittany only getting half a field on them before the other blonde dropped as well. Santana could hear Quinn wheezing next to her, desperately trying to catch her breath; she couldn't help but admire the girl's commitment to fitness, recovering so quickly after her pregnancy. Sure, she still teased Quinn about her stretch-marks, but if she were to be honest, she kind of just wanted to do horrible things to the girl's body, stretch-marks included.

Slipping on her best 'I just got fucked' face, she rolled over onto her back and stared at the blonde; Santana had talents, and she was pretty great at acting, so she figured why not? "I always knew you and your sweet ivory ass could keep up with me, Q." she said with her best husky, sex-kitten voice. It seemed to have an effect, the blonde turning beet red and her eyes widening ever so slightly as Quinn flopped onto her stomach, mumbling out an answer.

She couldn't help but chuckle at the response as she got to her knees. "Q, we need to stretch now…I can't have you cramping up on me." She noted, rubbing the fallen girl's back slowly, prompting the blonde into action. Immediately, Quinn was going through her post-workout stretching routine, and Santana matched her, though she could see that the blonde was struggling with some of them, her body clearly hurting as she rushed through some stretches.

Santana finished her lumbar stretches and rolled over to Quinn. "Blondie, you're gonna tear something if you keep that up…you're hurt, and I don't want you injured or shit." She stated firmly, earning a challenging glare from the blonde, who continued her painful looking stretches. Santana quickly grabbed Quinn's leg, the girl aiming to stretch her hamstring. She felt her friend tense a bit, so she pushed Quinn flat against the ground and started helping her through the stretch, slowly extending her leg and straightening it, being patient and watchful for any wincing on the blonde's behalf. "I'm your friend, Q. This part's not a competition, I'm just looking out for you."

"I know how to stretch, Santana." Quinn mumbled breathlessly, her eyes shut tight, but no discomfort on her face. Santana was at least pleased that the girl was talking to her. Slowly, she worked the girl though the rest of her stretched, taking any available opportunity to press her body against Quinn's, or to run her hands along something of the blonde's. By the end, she was certain that she girl's body was limber, if a bit sore still, and that Quinn was incredibly flustered.

Just as she got up and started toward the shower, she sent Britt a quick nod, putting part two of her plan into action. They'd taken a bit longer to stretch out, but Santana knew that they'd need a little more time to ensure that the locker room was empty, because Quinn was too sweaty to allow herself into her car. The girl was weird about her hygiene like that. Adding to that, she was positive that Q would gladly accept the distraction Britt offered, so Santana entered the locker room and waited on the bench for a few minutes before showering herself. Her target wouldn't be held up for much longer, she knew, and Santana was absolutely curious to see Quinn's reaction to her efforts.

She was a tease, after all. It was only fair that Quinn got her licks in as well.

* * *

**A/N: A follow-up to my second one-shot "Denial". Seems that Quinn might be trying to avoid temptation, but will Santana let that happen? Hrm. Doesn't seem so. She's kind of crafty that way. **

**I know this is different than the other ones I've done so far, which have been really self-contained stories, and a lot of the ones I post will indeed be that way, but some ideas that come to mind just end up expanding, especially as I look at the prompt list. So if I mention at the top of a fic that it's a continuation of another one, then it's a sequel, but otherwise, it's its own thing. :)**


	7. Rumour

_50 Words in 30 Days Keyword:_ **#24 "Rumour"**

* * *

It had taken three hours for Santana to cool down after learning they'd missed the showcase because of Finnept's lumbering, awkward kiss with Rachel. She'd stormed off through New York, trying to forget the whole performance, trying to forget the past few days.

Santana knew she wasn't the easiest person to get along with; she was a self-proclaimed bitch, but she DID try and be a good friend. She hated seeing Britt discouraged after her song was unceremoniously ditched by glee. More than that, she hated seeing Quinn in so much pain, so vulnerable. She almost wished she let her ice-queen best friend sabotage the competition, but Santana took some comfort in the fact that Quinn really did seem to like the haircut, even if she'd absolutely turned down any sort of extra comfort from Santana. Not that she'd ever seriously offered, but it hurt that Quinn basically told her she'd never feel that way about her.

She'd had a tiny crush on Quinn for years, and while her desire and commitment to it faded over time, it didn't change the fact that the blonde was something of an impossible dream for Santana. She'd moved on to Britt, who dumped her for Wheels, which only made it sting worse that all the girls she liked were guy-exclusive. It just didn't seem fair that so many people were coupled up in glee, and she was alone with no hope in sight.

Because sure, she was a bitch, but it didn't mean she didn't feel. It didn't mean she didn't want a slice of what everyone else could get so easily; the fact that she couldn't was a big reason why she was such a bitch anyway. She'd been sweet to Britt. The girl liked that side of her that she rarely was able to show. It just sucked that there was still another year until she graduated, meaning another year of being alone. Quinn's words haunted her, because they'd been what she'd felt too. She just wanted someone to love her. She'd even take a guy at that point, but she really wanted some lady love. Not just sweet lady kisses, but a real connection. She missed that warm sensation in her chest when she'd watch Britt skip down the hall toward her. Even if they might not have been deep in love, she'd felt enough love for the blonde to put herself out there. After Quinn and Britt, Santana was positive that she just wouldn't go for blondes ever again. It just didn't seem like the third time would be a charm.

She knew the glee kids were likely off making the most of their last night in New York, it only being eight thirty. When she entered the room, dark from the lack of active lighting, she figured she was right on the mark until muffled sobs reached her ears. Her eyes scanned the room as she walked across the room to one of the lamps, her gaze catching on a small lump under the sheets of the farthest bed.

As soon as she flicked the light switch on, she saw Rachel's head pop up from under the covers briefly, the girl's puffy bloodshot eyes seeking hers with about as desperate an expression as Santana had ever seen on someone.

"Oh my Barbra, Santana!" Berry cried out, the diva positively butchering the pronunciation of her name as sobs tore through her mid-sentence. Santana stood stock still, fingers still lingering on the switch as Berry barreled into her, capturing her in a surprisingly tight hug, the girl sobbing into the front of her dress; thankfully, it wasn't an expensive one, and would be easy enough to replace and guilt the diva into paying for.

"Jeez, short stack, what the hell?" Santana scoffed, trying to wrestle Rachel off of her, to no avail.

"You left." Rachel cried into her shoulder, the diva's body shaking against her. Sighing, Santana gave the girl a light hug in hopes that it would appease Rachel, but the diva just burrowed impossibly closer against her. She couldn't help but feel it was kind of like the twilight zone, because Berry had never, EVER been that affectionate with her. It was weird and suspicious.

Santana let out a confused chuckle, not understanding at all why Rachel was so upset. It all seemed a bit too dramatic. "I had to cool off, or Snix would have ended up killing you or Finn, but I'm good now. Whatever." She stated calmly, hoping the diva would take the hint that she's fine.

Rachel moved back slightly, just enough to look up into her eyes. "I heard what you said earlier…" Rachel whispered, her voice cracking. Santana had no idea what the girl was talking about, so she just raised a questioning eyebrow. "What…what you said to Quinn."

Santana's body went stiff at the mention of that conversation; she was only ever candid in the company of her blondes, and that Berry had listened in on them was kind of scary and kind of infuriating. She wasn't sure whether to push the girl away or just spin out of the girl's grasp and out the door; Rachel seemed to see the panic set in, and clutched tightly to her. "Santana please don't leave, please!"

Santana was surprised to hear the level of panic in Berry's voice exceeding what was going on in her head, and that was enough to make her curious and settle down a bit, even if she was a little wary. "What the fuck are you going on about midge?" Santana whispered, backing the both of them up toward the bed, Rachel's legs hitting first as the brunette awkwardly stumbled off of her and onto the mattress. Rachel looked up at her with an expression that was so pleading, that she wasn't sure she could move.

"I was scared…after…after what happened between you and her, and how depressed you've been..." Rachel started, falling into sobs for a moment before she hastily worked to compose herself. "I lost you your chance…I'm so sorry, I just want you to…to…"

"To feel good about myself?" she asked the brunette quietly, a mix of undecipherable emotions swirling within her. She was freaked out that Berry was freaking out, and was freaked out that she'd repeated the words from that conversation again, willingly. Hell, without even thinking.

Rachel nodded tearfully, lifting her hand and offering to Santana. She wasn't sure what to do, so she ignored it for the moment, sitting down on the edge of the bed, facing away from Rachel. It was so hard to just think, it had been sprung on her so suddenly.

"Why aren't you out with Finn?" she asked softly, too confused about her current situation to be angry or frustrated or anything. She was just straight up confused, and that was starting to lock her up.

"He didn't let me go when I told him to. He…he kissed me, and you ran away." Rachel stammered out between sobs. "I was so worried."

She pondered Rachel's choice of words, not understanding how the diva could break the day's events into something as simple as that. Hell, it wasn't even accurate. After Finn kissed Rachel, she legitimately tried to murder him, and had mentally gone over a plan involving the oaf, the Hudson River, and a storage crate. "I don't understand." Santana mused out loud, shaking her head. Berry just wasn't making any sense. "Everyone knows I storm off when I'm pissed…I have rage issues, and I might break some things, or some people, but whatever."

"So…you…you weren't going to…" Rachel squeaked out, sounding absolutely tiny, before breaking out into fresh sobs. Santana let out a sigh, entirely in disbelief that she was halfheartedly consoling Berry over her own disappearance. It didn't make any sense!

"I wasn't going to what?" she asked, her mind scouring the past for any possible reason for anyone to be upset about her not coming back. Because, seriously, most people in glee hated her. It wasn't her being dramatic or defensive, it was true. She was a bitch to everyone, and most couldn't differentiate her 'mean-bitchiness' from her 'playful-friendship-bitchiness', so generally, people hated her. It wasn't like she could just turn off her wit or brutal honesty, or whatever. She'd tried wrapping in up in compliments, to try and make them backhanded compliments, but no one ever understood the efforts she made. They just kind of decided to hate her, so fuck them, right? Why would anyone worry about her just running off somewhere? "Wait…did Britt tell you I was moving to TriBeCa or a lesbian colony? Because I totally wasn't being…"

"No! I…no!" Rachel blurted out, shaking her head like some hyper-active cartoon character. "Kurt said…Kurt…"

Santana rolled her eyes at the fact that Rachel couldn't seem to string three words together for the first time in her life, just when she was curious enough to be willing to listen to Berry speak. "What did Lady Face say?"

Rachel's lower jaw was quivering. Like, honestly, it was jutting out and quivering, and her lower lip was in this ridiculous pout, and Santana honestly couldn't understand what was going on, because she kind of just wanted to keep the diva from being that sad. It wasn't like she was into her or anything; she just didn't want the girl to be such an emotional mess or whatever. Not a heck of a lot of people in the world would have been worried if she went missing, and Berry was for some inexplicable reason, so that kind of counted for something. She just wasn't sure what, at least not yet.

"Kurt…Kurt said he saw you under the bleachers two weeks ago." Rachel stated with a level of despair that Santana wasn't sure could be matched by much else, aside from how she'd actually felt that day under those concrete steps. It had arguably been the worst forty-eight hour stretch of her life, and she felt fortunate enough to think back to it and not be reduced to a blubbering mess. Her eyes welled with tears as the memory stormed into her unprepared mind, and if there were cameras or spies nearby, a tear track or two might have been visible, but there wasn't any proof. It was Berry's word against her own.

"So what?" she choked out, her voice already surprisingly strained, but the wounds were all still incredibly fresh. She'd done nothing to heal them over that two week span. Santana had taken a page from the Fabrays and tried to ignore it, pretend it didn't happen. In truth, it was all that was happening in her life.

It had all started with Brittany offhandedly telling Santana that she'd never loved her 'like that'. As if it had been a fact about ducks, or the answer to one of Mr. Schuester's inane questions. She'd loved Brittany. She'd felt more for the blonde than anyone else in her short, admittedly sort-of-pathetic existence, and the girl hadn't felt anything of the sort in return. That was reserved for Wheels. Of course. So she'd excused herself, cried like a bitch, went home early from school, and ultimately did what she always did when she was heart-broken. Santana self-destructed, calling Puck for a hook-up, because while sex always reminded her of Britt, it was the only time she every really felt wanted. And even if it sucked, and it was regrettable and emotionless, and she felt emptier and more broken in the aftermath, she at least meant something for a few seconds.

And of course, for the first time in their history of hook-ups, Puck got caught on the way out and Santana had to find out that the mohawked idiot had been screwing her mom too, which was just fucking insanely gross, and would have had her vomiting if she hadn't been so angry. And because she was so angry, yelling at Puck and her mother, her father had heard her. Which led to him interrogating her mom, and the both of them blowing up on each other as Puck made a hasty escape. Which led to them both deciding not very amicably on a divorce. Oh, and her father had also made the decision that since she and her mother were such sluts, that they deserved each other, and he wanted nothing to do with either of them. Which was the icing on the cake. Her father, who had taught her how to ride a bike, who had taught her how to dance, who always cheered her up with the absolute worst puns in existence, and who could slip them into sentences and conversations effortlessly, didn't want her anymore. Her father, who was there for her through seemingly every struggle in her life, not only didn't want her, but couldn't even bear to look at her, to call her his daughter. In short, she'd always been her daddy's girl, and her daddy didn't love her anymore. And that fucking hurt worse than anything she'd ever felt in her life. And then, the next day, which she'd mostly spent in a numb haze, she was kicked back down to the bottom of the pyramid again for not sounding interested enough in what Quinn had been talking about at lunch. She still wasn't sure what it was, but it had earned her the ice-queen's contempt, and Santana had to face the facts that she'd only ever be friends with Quinn half the time. The other half, the blonde hated her, and yet again, she couldn't ever have someone feel the same way about herself as she did others. Everyone she considered a friend didn't see her as one, and everyone she loved didn't love her in return. Even her mother was cold toward her for screwing her marriage up.

So yeah, that day fucking sucked. And maybe she needed to take a few minutes to just let go and cry or whatever, and maybe she said some things in haste; honestly, she couldn't remember much of that day, but apparently Lady Face had seen her.

"He said that he heard you…that you…" the diva started before taking a much-needed breather; the shift in expression on Berry's face as the girl tried to compose herself and restrain her emotions would have been hilarious if she wasn't so morbidly curious. "We're not better off without you, Santana."

She looked into the diva's huge, glimmering brown eyes and saw the sincere concern, and couldn't help but feel ashamed. Ashamed that she'd ever hated on the girl for her emotions and for her honesty, because it was breathtaking how the girl just wore her heart out on her sleeve like that. That Rachel had the gall to bring up something as serious as that with a girl who never vocalized her emotions. A girl that most were terrified of, and Berry did it without any back-up to protect her. It was kind of stunning, Santana had to admit.

It took a few seconds for her to absorb the girl's words, to really hear them and understand them. She may have been a bitch, but she was a perceptive bitch. I usually meant her insults would hit people harder or whatever, but she could hear what Rachel wasn't saying as clearly as what she had said. "Kurt listened in on me…and he thought I was going to kill myself." Santana stated slowly, not needing any verbal confirmation from Rachel, whose head ducked as another sob escaped her. "Well, he did a bang up job of talking me out of it, didn't he?"

"He didn't know what to say." Rachel said softly, her voice barely reaching Santana's ears. The words were baffling, and she heard the disappointment in Rachel's tone.

"He only told you this today when I left." Santana's words were met with a stiff nod, Berry's head still lowered, her gaze still averted. She wasn't having any of that. "Berry, look at me."

Rachel didn't, keeping her head down, her hair masking her face; the faint hint of her eyes showed that they were looking in the opposite direction. It wasn't as if Santana needed Rachel to tell her how she felt; the diva's emotions were coming off of her in waves so clear that it was kind of stunning. She'd been able to read Rachel's body language in the past, but the girl was just emanating guilt, worry, fear, and a surprising hint of anger. "Berry, it was a rumour. Kurt's a gossip hound."

"Did you ever consider it?" Rachel asked, her voice harder than before, reminding Santana of their own altercations in glee over the years.

It wasn't a difficult question, and before she even thought of her answer, the word slipped out of her mouth. "Yes." Three letters, one vowel, one syllable. One confirmation that she'd considered ending the one and only life she'd ever had, and ever would have as far as she knew. Did that make her a bad person? A selfish person? Probably. "But I'm still here, so whatever."

"No, it's not 'whatever', Santana!" Rachel cried out, finally facing her, the diva's eyes wide with a tearful rage. "When Kurt told us that you'd been struggling like that for weeks, I wanted to…I HATED him! I yelled at him, I tried to get everyone to go out and look for you, I tried to…they just...I thought we were all fine!" the diva yelled out, her words confirming what she'd known for months. It wasn't a shock that no one really cared, except for Rachel, apparently; it was just hard to hear that she'd been right.

"The glee family was fine, Rachel." She stated dispassionately with a shrug as she turned away, trying to play off the hurt that was bubbling inside of her, knowing that two families had refused her. "You know better than anyone that family's more than blood. They're not you…they didn't think of me like that, and I knew that the whole time."

She felt Rachel's hand snake into hers as the diva shifted closer to her. "He…two weeks. Anything could have happened."

"And if you'd known, I would have denied it. I didn't want your help." Santana replied quickly, deciding to give the girl some feedback, offering a light squeeze of her hand. It was true. It didn't take her long to wrap her head around Rachel wanting her to be there, wanting her around. The girl was cheerful and sweet and friendly; Santana had just assumed that the girl was such a good actress that she didn't really care that much about everyone. Now she knew that she was wrong.

"Then why are you talking with me right now?" Rachel asked, using her other hand to turn Santana's head to face her.

Santana shook her head; she knew that come hell or high water, Finn wouldn't have passed up on his pursuit of Rachel, not after he'd kissed her. "Why isn't Finn here?" she asked simply, gauging the diva for a response. After a few seconds of what Santana could chalk up as intense staring, she continued. "That's your answer, Berry."

"Because Finn makes you uncomfortable?" Rachel asked, warily, clearly not on Santana's wavelength. She had to remember that for as smart and emotionally capable as the diva was, she wasn't the most creative thinker. The girl had said, after all, that the gold star stickers she often placed beside her signature were metaphors for her being a star. Seriously, the girl had her moments, but she wasn't like Santana; the diva dealt with blunt aggression and insults about surface-level shit. Whereas she'd grown up with lots of kind, sweet words with venomous, soul-destroying undertones. She'd had to read into people's words her whole life, where Berry hadn't been exposed to that sort of thing long enough to comprehend it.

"Because he doesn't care, and neither does anyone else. Because back then, I didn't think you cared either, but you being alone here right now…when you could be out on the town seeing a play, or eating dinner with Finessa…it shows you kinda care." Santana rambled slowly, not really sure how to say what she wanted to, fully knowing it was coming out with an incredible lack of grace.

Rachel just squeezed her hand, and they sat in silence, both very aware of the situation. Santana couldn't help but feel kind of incredible that Rachel had yelled at everyone and ditched them in favour of waiting for her to come back. The girl couldn't go out on the town because she'd been too worried and felt the need to be there if or when Santana returned. It was heartwarming. It may have made her, for a few moments, a big softie. Whatever. "If I asked you to be my friend, would you?" she asked quietly, figuring that if there was any chance of having something remotely okay in her life, that was the time to ask.

The gentle weight of Rachel leaning against her was probably a good enough answer, but she was thankful for the words. "I'd love to be your friend, Santana."

And for once, for the first time in weeks, she was on an even plane with someone else. No longer was she always giving more than she got, or not giving enough. It was comforting, and she couldn't really hate that Kurt spread that rumour, true or not, because it had gained her a friend. One that she knew she could trust, because Rachel Berry was nothing if not committed. So she leaned back into Rachel and wrapped an arm around the girl's waist, pulling her lazily into her for a hug, because she still had to keep up SOME appearances. She didn't want to seem that desperate, even if she was pretty sure Rachel felt it in her as they both held each other. It was good to have a friend again, and when the rumour mill started up again when they got back to McKinley, she'd be sure to set the record straight when it came to Rachel. Anything else outside of that didn't really matter enough to correct.

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**A/N: So the prompt was 'Rumour', and I didn't want this big rumour mill thing, or a fic full of rumours. I figured that a single one, said in the heat of a moment, would be good enough to build a narrative from. I hope you enjoyed it…I'm not sure how to feel about it yet. It's a solid friendship-fic, methinks, but I've written better.**


	8. Infatuation

_50 Words in 30 Days:_ **#13 Admirer**

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"What the FUCK, Yentl!?"

Rachel winced at the cheerleader's voice, quickly taking a few steps away from the infuriated girl that she'd bumped into for nearly the fourth time that day. It wasn't as if she was naturally clumsy, she just got distracted sometimes.

"Santana, it was an accident, so let's just calm down and take it from…" Mister Schuester started, but Santana was already storming off, out of the practice space they'd rented and toward the elevators leading up to their rooms.

Rachel blushed from shame as she felt all eyes on her; it was made even worse with the knowledge that it hadn't been a one-off occurrence. Ever since the party in her basement, she'd had something of a problem, and while the gleeks were pretty much oblivious, they had been getting on her case for her recent clumsiness. They'd almost lost regionals because she'd fumbled up so many times practicing the choreography for 'Loser Like Me', and it had been an absolute miracle that they'd pulled it off on the main show.

She really hadn't meant to be such a klutz, she just couldn't help herself. Ever since her party, Rachel had developed something of an infatuation. Even in her oddly flattering cropped fur vest and blue dress, Rachel could hardly take her eyes off the girl. Rachel's heart had beaten faster when the cheerleader had gotten possessive during spin the bottle, and when Santana had given Sam a lap dance while she and Blaine sang on stage, she thought her heart was going to explode out of her chest. Ever since, she'd tried to get closer to the girl, but always managed to mess every attempt up. She just didn't have an off switch, and it was costing them valuable practice time.

Rachel ignored all the protests from the group members, waving them off as she went to follow Santana. "I need to apologize." Was all she could get out, before she scurried out of the room. Santana had clearly caught one of the elevators up, and Rachel had to wait a minute or two to grab another. And the passengers on hers seemed to need to stop on every floor, delaying her ascent to the ninth floor where their rooms were located.

Finally, after about ten minutes of torture, she arrived at Santana's room; they'd taken four rooms and bunked everyone in, and she'd been fortunate enough to have been selected to share one with Santana, which had unintentionally caused a great deal of incidents and a lot of anger. Rachel hadn't wanted to upset the cheerleader, she just wanted the girl to notice her. It just ended up that she forced Santana to notice her by bumping into her, stepping on her feet, tripping her, falling onto her, among many other unfortunate accidents. Of course, she'd also tried other ways, like wearing shorter skirts, tighter tops, more makeup, less argyle; she'd even sang and danced what she deemed to be a sexy number in glee, but the cheerleader had been too focused on her own nails throughout it all. Rachel would have been infuriated had she not accidentally made the cheerleader's life in glee a living hell.

So she crept into the room, the sound of loud expletive-laced dialogue streaming from the bathroom, Santana's clothes clearly unceremoniously tossed onto the floor. Rachel wasn't sure why Santana had so desperately needed a shower, but upon reflection, it seemed fairly clear given her past interactions with the girl. _She must be washing my residue off of her…she always makes fun of me and calls me short and ugly and gross…I must have disgusted her so much that she felt the need to be clean…_

Rachel frowned and slumped down at the end of the sole bed in the room, feeling masochistic as she listened to the angry girl in the other room.

"Like fucking seriously, EVERY TIME! She has to fucking throw herself onto me like some monkey with attachment issues or shit! I don't…augh!" she heard the girl yell, followed by the sound of running water, Santana clearly getting started on her routine. "She thinks she can just do that and get away with it?!"

Rachel gulped and shrunk in on herself as she sat at the edge of the bed; she'd long expected Santana to really physically lash out at her, but all she'd gotten thus far were insults, threats and glares. The exact opposite of what she'd been aiming for in her efforts.

"She thinks she can fucking rub up against me like I'm some damn stripper pole? She thinks she can trip me just to get a fucking look at my ass?! Fucking bitch!" Santana raged, and Rachel couldn't help but blush. She'd never thought of it that way, even when taking the opportunity to sneak a peek, though she also had thought her infatuation was secret. It appeared that that wasn't the case. "She thinks she can just…just get all up on me like she did and not even fucking say anything?! Play that innocent naïve virgin shit like she does with everyone?! Her skirts are fucking CRIMINAL! Fuck, her LEGS are criminal, and she's always flashing me the fucking goods, and I'M the person who needs to calm the fuck down?!"

Rachel found herself standing, moving toward the door slowly as she listened, confused about the girl's rant. Apparently, her apologies hadn't counted as saying something to Santana; apparently, she'd been somewhat improper with her posture in class, and Santana had noticed. That was unintentional, but while it seemed to have helped enrage Santana, she could clearly hear the girl was yelling from frustration now, not just simply anger. And that intrigued Rachel.

"SHE needs to get HER shit together! It's been fucking MONTHS! Months of her running into me and dry humping me in public and I can't even catch a fucking break because she's always fucking THERE! It's bad enough having to watch B and Wheels macking in glee and at lunch, having to deal with the dwarf giving Finnept those fucking stupid looks is just fucking bullshit! What the fuck is she even DOING?!" Santana ranted ferociously as Rachel slipped into the steamy bathroom, not really sure what she was doing, but knowing instinctively that she needed to be in there. "And it HAD to be the fucking hobbit! It just fucking had to be her, not even Tina, who kind of pulls off the sexy goth look or whatever! I would have given my left ovary for Quinn or Britt, but Berry?! Overbearing, selfish, loud-mouthed fucking Berry with her fucking skyscraper legs? It's not fair!" the cheerleader was clearly furious, following her words with an audible slam of something on a wall.

Santana slipped into Spanish with her ranting, and Rachel couldn't understand it at that pace, so she just used that brief moment to get up the courage to act. She hadn't been able to gather much from the girl's rants, but what had stuck out was that Santana seemed to like her legs, and didn't like her staring at Finn; sure, there were other things, but she wanted to focus on those things. They were positive. So she quietly stripped off her clothes, grabbed her shampoo, conditioner and body wash, and walked over to the shower. Santana still hadn't noticed her, it seemed, so she took a deep breath and pulled the shower curtain back a little. That didn't seem to rouse the girl's attention from her ranting, Santana's hands waving angrily in the air as the girl held a shower pouf in one of her hands. Rachel quietly placed her shampoo and conditioner on the ledge at the back of the shower. She was pretty sure she was walking into incredibly dangerous territory, the sort that could very likely get her killed, but her body was on autopilot, and she honestly couldn't help herself; the thought of Santana maybe being a little jealous was kind of arousing.

"Santana?" she asked quietly, her voice surprisingly calm as she gently took hold of the loofah; the shower pouf quickly came into Rachel's control as Santana spun around, her hands flailing for a moment to grip onto anything she could as she tried to keep her footing. The cheerleader's eyes were wide with shock, her expression still holding the previous fury and frustration, though as the seconds passed, confusion seemed to settle in as well.

Rachel gulped, trying to stay calm, and squeezed out some of her body wash onto the pouf; the familiar cookie-dough scent had been a favourite since her fathers had bought her some for Hanukkah, and the thought of sharing it with Santana was more than a little alluring. "Let me help, before the water gets cold." She spoke simply, approaching Santana, who was effectively, standing in the way of the jets of water.

Rachel took in the other girl's naked form for a moment, pleased that Santana wasn't violently throwing her out of the shower or tearing her down verbally. Santana had always been beautiful, but as she approached, she felt that she was in the presence of a goddess, one worthy of even the smallest bit of worship. So she gently worked the loofah against Santana's collarbone, pleasantly surprised at the hitch in the other girl's breathing at the contact.

Rachel slowly, methodically worked her way over Santana's toned arms before returning and spreading her body wash across Santana's slightly heaving chest. The girl gasped, though it sounded almost stifled; Rachel was too shy to look into the cheerleader's eyes quite yet, instead deciding to take her time in scrubbing the girl clean of everything that wasn't Rachel's. Once she finished the girl's front torso, having taken her time on the girl's admirable set of rippling abs, she stepped closer, gently prodding for Santana to spin around.

The girl didn't budge, so Rachel dared a glance up at Santana's eyes, which were entirely devoid of anger, too filled with confusion and the growing embers of lust to keep hold of that fury. After Santana refused to budge a second time, Rachel just stepped up against Santana, her body pressing lightly against the cheerleader's as her hands reached behind the girl's back and scrubbed away at that half of the torso. Her eyes didn't leave Santana's during the exchange, and Santana's didn't leave hers; she wasn't sure what to make of it, but Santana was allowing her to continue, so she took it as a good sign.

Eventually her hands and pouf ventured lower, and she used one hand to massage the girl's ass, something she'd dreamed of doing for months, while the other scrubbed the remaining cheek. Santana leaned into her at the touch, the girl's hands resting on Rachel's shoulders as she continued her work. The cheerleader's hands didn't remain there long as Rachel crouched onto the balls of her feet so she could work up and down Santana's legs. She knew that Santana ranted about her legs, but she didn't think the cheerleader had any room to complain. Rachel had to see those long, tan legs every day in glee as well, and there was never any reprieve, whereas she'd occasionally wear tights or knee socks. It was only when she was gently working on Santana's upper thighs, caressing the backs of her legs with her other hand, that she felt Santana grab her by the arm and pull her up harshly. Almost immediately, the taller girl had her pressed up against the wall, their faces millimeters apart.

"What are you doing?" Santana asked, her voice low and husky, her breathing slightly labored. The sight and sound had Rachel smiling, because it was clear that Santana was reacting to her ministrations.

Now, Rachel could have merely said she was helping her, which would be vague enough to pass off and let Santana think what she wanted. That seemed unfair, though, as Santana seemed to be frustrated with not knowing why Rachel was reacting around her like she had. She also considered saying she was merely cleaning her, which was an undeniable truth. It would play up the naïve virgin card that Santana complained about, and could maybe get the cheerleader to spill more of her thoughts, though it was also likely to incite more anger. Instead, she went with the honest answer, one that had come to her five minutes earlier as she was washing the girl's stomach. She'd wanted to possess Santana in some way, and the mere act of doing that had gotten her very hot and bothered, her hands shaking slightly as she'd continued. Rachel was pretty sure Santana noticed eventually, which was why she was up against the wall.

"I'm making you smell like me." Rachel said softly, her gaze challenging Santana to stop her; because she would stop, if asked, but she didn't want Santana to give that order. She wanted to believe she heard the other girl moan a little bit, because she knew Santana had made a sound, but it wasn't entirely discernable.

"Why?" Santana asked, her body pressing against hers tantalizingly, Rachel wrapping her arms reflexively around Santana's waist. It was a simple question, but there were so many answers Rachel wanted to give.

"I was curious." Rachel noted, her voice barely above a whisper as she cocked her head to the side; Santana's gaze dropped to her lips for a brief second before the rest of the girl's body pressed hard against her. Rachel couldn't help but exhale from the pressure, the warm tile thankfully relatively frictionless, or her back would have been quite sore.

"About?" Santana breathed out, the cheerleader grabbing Rachel's hands and pressing them high above her head against the wall. Rachel was absolutely fine with giving Santana a little control in their situation. The cheerleader had been very accommodating thus far.

"If you'd let me…if I'd feel like I thought I would." She answered simply, feeling herself blush fiercely at the admission and the transparency of her attraction to the girl.

Santana was quiet for a few moments, moving her head to the side and resting her forehead on the wall to the left of Rachel's head. "You made me smell like cookies." The girl noted with a hint of amusement, which had Rachel's heart soaring with hope.

"You're mouth-watering, you deserved something fitting." She blurted out, and Santana's grip on her wrists tightened for a moment before the girl let go entirely, Santana stepping back from the wall, her hands running through her wet locks. Rachel didn't want to let her stew on that, so she followed the girl, wrapping her arms around Santana's waist and pressing her lips to the girl's shoulder blades. Santana shuddered under her touch, and that just made Rachel more confident, one hand trailing down to a thigh while the other massaged Santana's abs. "I'm sorry for being a nuisance lately…you're very distracting."

"Dios mio…" Santana breathed out, her hand gripping the shower head for stability as Rachel continued her ministrations, her one hand starting to massage the taller girl's inner thigh. "Berry…what are you doing?"

Rachel swallowed at the question; she knew she was already in deep, so she figured it wouldn't hurt to go all in. "I may be inexperienced, Santana, but it doesn't mean I can't help you find some relief." She spoke softly into Santana's ear, smiling at the girl's shudder. "You seemed fond of my legs, so if you want, I could offer a thigh, or…or I could prove to you that you were always wrong about my hands…" she breathed out, nipping at the other girl's neck, entirely too caught up in the moment to really care that Santana hadn't reciprocated in any way at all.

"Yentl, I…I think you've done enough." Santana choked out, abruptly shutting off the shower with one of her feet, the former cheerleader promptly exiting the shower, leaving Rachel standing there in a confused daze. Fortunately for the brunette, it cleared quickly, and she was soon standing on the bathmat, grabbing a towel to dry herself off with, watching Santana with curious eyes as the other girl frantically dried herself off and stumbled into the other room in her underwear.

Rachel took her time, deciding to do an abbreviated version of her nightly routine before leaving the bathroom; she wanted the other girl to have time to consider her proposal, after all. And while it was still very early in the evening, she hoped that she'd find something interesting to do in their hotel room for the remaining hours of the night.

When she was finished, she covered herself in a fresh towel and stepped out into the room where Santana Lopez was perched on the end of the bed, her head in her hands as her wild, damp hair obscured the girl's face from the diva.

"You should hate me, you know." Santana spoke as Rachel neared her, the diva choosing to remain silent as she knelt before the taller girl. "Why are you screwing with me?"

Rachel winced at the hint of remorse in the girl's voice, hidden behind the hostility and suspicion, of course. She knew Santana didn't like it when she rambled, so she'd have to be succinct.

"It would have been easier to hate you, I suppose. At first, I was torn between my anger toward you and how attracted I was to you." Rachel admitted, prompting Santana to raise her head and meet her gaze, her expression unreadable for once. "I suppose initially there was a certain allure to the notion of 'hate-fucking' you, but…after I started paying attention to you more, and accidentally annoying you, I came to terms with that anger. I forgive you."

"You shouldn't." Santana bit back immediately, her eyes showing a fraction of the anger Rachel had stepped in on earlier. She understood that Santana got angry when she was confused or felt vulnerable. She'd always appreciated the challenge, even if her appreciation for the girl eventually eclipsed it.

"It's the difference between you and me. You hold grudges and are defensive. I forgive and keep an open heart." Rachel stated confidently as she ran her fingertips up and down the accessible length of Santana's legs. "I'm sorry for frustrating you so much, even if at times I have been trying to get your attention. I only ever wanted you to notice me, but I didn't think about how it'd affect you."

Santana was quiet for a few moments as she dropped her gaze; however, her apparent permission to allow Rachel to continue caressing her was a nice boost to Rachel's hopes for the night. "How much did you hear?" Santana asked quietly, her voice not entirely void of the steely tone she usually used, just at a more hushed level. It was progress. One step at a time.

"From where you called me a monkey with attachment issues." Rachel noted with a smirk as she shuffled between the girl's legs, her forehead resting against the top of Santana's lowered one. "I don't want Finn. I haven't. I appease him with the same hollow smile to get him to stop staring at me and to focus in glee, but he's not the one that makes my heart beat out of my chest. He's not the one I look for wherever I am at school, or around town. He's not the one I misguidedly tried to claim this evening in the shower."

Santana chuckled at the last sentence, which was promising, as Rachel had thought her inappropriate behavior had caused the girl to stop showering and evacuate the premises. "I smell fucking delicious."

"You are." Rachel shot back immediately, earning a nervous laugh from Santana, who pushed herself backward and fully onto the bed, away from her.

"Pretty confident for someone who's never had a taste." Santana said, and while someone who wasn't well acquainted with the taller girl's quirks would have called her tone cocky, it was clear to Rachel that Santana was on the defensive, clearly nervous by the twitch of her eyebrow and the slight hitch in her voice.

Rachel moved to her feet and combed loose damp strands of hair from her face so she could better see the other girl on the bed. "Months of dreaming and thinking about you have led me to some hopeful hypotheses…but you're right." Rachel admitted as she agonizingly slowly made her way to the side of the bed, her body warming at the thought that a foot away, Santana was on a bed, in her underwear, and she was standing beside her wearing nothing but a towel. "Santana, what do you want from me?"

"What?" the girl asked, looking up with shock and disbelief, clearly not having expected that question to fall from Rachel's lips.

"I'll leave if you truly want me to. I'll sit on the floor in the corner of the room and sleep there tonight if you want that. I'll try to ignore you as much as I can, if you prefer, though I can't promise anything on that end." Rachel stated firmly, before taking a deep steadying breath and continuing. "If you want some relief with as few strings attached as possible…I could do that for you as well."

Santana looked entirely conflicted for a few moments, even as she spoke her decree. "I want you to leave." The girl said, lacking conviction in every syllable.

Rachel sighed and decided to follow the girl's order, even if she wasn't about to give up on the fight. Nonchalantly, she shrugged off her towel, leaving herself entirely nude, before slowly sauntering over to her luggage. She bent at the hip as she opened it, slowly looking through her garments for a change of clothing. She fished out a pair of tights first, and then her underwear and bra, followed by one of her skirts, before finally pulling out a slate grey sweater with a deep v-neck. Carefully, she took the folded pile of clothes to the side of the bed that Santana wasn't seated on, and started changing. She'd pulled her boyshorts up and was reaching for her bra when two strong hands pulled her backward onto the bed by her waist and shoulders.

Almost immediately, Rachel rolled in the other girl's grasp, pulling Santana down by the neck just enough to throw the girl's balance off. And just like that, Rachel went from changing into her clothes to straddling Santana Lopez, and she'd never felt so exhilarated. Santana, for her part, had never looked so stunned, which the diva felt was a good look on her, but not as good as other expressions, so she quickly lunged down and crashed their lips together. Santana arched up into her surprisingly eagerly as Rachel worked through the euphoria of finally touching the girl she'd desired for months, very much allowing Santana's tongue entrance when the other girl slid it across her lower lip.

She felt Santana's hands gripping and clawing at her back, and perhaps it was a bit painful, but it was a minor price to pay for being able to kiss the girl beneath her. When she willed herself to migrate south, trailing hot kisses down the expanse of Santana's neck, allowing herself the odd nip or love-bite, the other girl apparently felt it opportune to switch positions. Which simply would not do.

Rachel immediately clamped down on Santana's wrists and used her body's weight to hold them against the bed, their faces millimeters apart. "Berry, just fucking kiss me and get me off, or I swear…" Santana grit out until Rachel's lips silenced her with a quick, passionate kiss, and a little nip to the girl's lower lip that dragged a moan from Santana's throat. It may have been the best sound she'd ever heard, and immediately, she felt ablaze.

"I will, but we have time. I want to explore you. I want to make you feel good." She spoke, each sentence punctuated by a quick kiss. Rachel needed Santana to understand, needed her to know what she wanted to do. "I want to show you how special you are." She added as she tentatively let go of one wrist and grazed it down the girl's arm; her hand found a temporary home cupping Santana's surprisingly soft breast considering her supposed augmentation, her thumb giving a playful flick against the girl's hardened nipple. "I won't tease, I promise."

"Fuck, Berry!" Rachel heard the girl beneath her grind out with closed eyes, arching into her touch as she kneaded Santana's breast again. "Whatever, just get on with it."

Rachel smiled and got back to work, returning her lips to Santana's glorious tan canvas, her soft lips meeting immaculate skin as she worked her way from the girl's neck down her torso. She allowed herself a brief pit stop, leaving a chaste kiss against a triangle of freckles just above the taller girl's left breast. However, she did promise that she wouldn't tease, so she let go of Santana's other wrist and allowed it to migrate south as well as the rest of her body.

Once again, she found Santana trying to buck her off and top her, but her mouth on the girl's breast, and another hand working the other, quickly nullified that initiative, earning her a few Spanish expletives that she didn't truly care to translate at the moment. Rachel was more than content to take in all of the senses she was being assaulted with. She really wanted to use her free hand to do something other than hold Santana down, but the girl was still wriggling underneath her, so it didn't seem like an option, sadly. She compromised by removing the hand over her breast and letting it stroke Santana's inner thigh.

"Berry…" the other girl hissed, her hand raking her back, as if Rachel was deserving of some punishment for her ministrations. She'd endure it, and it was a different sort of pleasant, anyway.

"I know you're impatient, baby. I promise I'll help, just trust me, let me do this for you." Rachel whispered as she moved her mouth down the girl's tantalizing four-pack. She'd always known Santana's body was glorious, but it was another thing entirely to know that on such an intimate level. Taking Santana's lack of response aside from heavy breathing as a green light, the hand caressing her inner thigh quickly moved to slide slowly down girl's slit, her thumb rolling over the bundle of nerves as she inserted a two fingers.

"Oh god!" Santana cried out, her hips canting into Rachel's touch, prompting a giggle from the diva.

"I'm hardly the goddess out of the both of us, Santana." Rachel murmured as she continued her slow pace down, deciding to free up the hand holding Santana to one of the girl's breasts, hoping to provide a little extra relief. Santana arched into her touch there as well with a sigh, and she had to smile as she tenderly placed a kiss to her abdomen. It was her first time actually doing anything sexual with another person, but she was glad that her research seemed to be holding up well. "Baby, spread your legs for me." She husked out, her body feeling like it was lit on fire, but she needed to be patient. Santana's needs had to come first.

Santana surprisingly did as she was asked, quickly getting the hint as her hands grasped at Rachel's hair, the diva's head moving down. Rachel knew her lack of gag reflex wouldn't come into play with Santana, but she felt the girl would appreciate her skilled tongue. She started slowly, working herself into a rhythm that seemed to satisfy the ex-cheerleader, her tongue agilely flicking and lapping at her clit as she worked her fingers inside Santana. Rachel couldn't help but moan with desire as she tasted Santana for the first time, the reality shattering her hopes and dreams; she didn't mind at all that the girl's hands were gripping her scalp tightly. It probably meant that she was doing well, if that and the stream of soft expletives coming from Santana were any indication, the girl's body rocking with every motion the diva made.

Rachel wasn't one to feel shame for much of anything, but she was embarrassingly turned on by how tight the other girl felt around her fingers, and how absolutely soaking wet Santana was because of her. Rachel was in heaven, and while she really wanted to take her time, her body wasn't listening. With each passing second, her thrusts became faster, her tongue worked more feverishly; Santana was clutching tightly to her, moaning and panting and mewling to her touch. To Rachel Barbra Berry's efforts. It was miraculous.

She could feel the girl tensing beneath her, and Rachel immediately slid downward and added a third digit, curling her digits inside the girl as Santana began convulsing, her walls tightening around her.

"Ra...Rachel!" Santana cried out hoarsely, her name on the taller girl's lips soon replaced by low, wordless moans as she continued her work, easing the girl down as her research had recommended. Eventually, when Santana let go of her head, she started kissing a trail up the girl's body, her hands tenderly caressing her abs, ribs, breasts, arms as she migrated upward across Santana, who was panting and occasionally arching into Rachel's touches, but who mostly lay still.

Rachel traced a path up the girl's neck with her hand before caressing the girl's head, brushing stray locks of hair that were obscuring Santana's breathtakingly beautiful face. She'd never tire of that face, let alone the memory of seeing the girl so spent and satisfied. Even with her eyes closed, she was perfect. Rachel kissed both eyes lightly before planting a soft, tender kiss on the girl's lips, and this time, Santana returned the favour hesitantly, following Rachel's lead with every motion.

"Santana…can you open your eyes?" Rachel asked softly, the girl underneath her simply shaking her head from side to side as her lip gave a hint of a quiver. "Baby, please."

"I don't understand." Santana noted weakly, her eyes still clenched shut, turning her head away from Rachel as the diva's hand cupped her cheek. "Why are you being so sweet?"

Rachel let herself lay on top of Santana, her arms snaking around the taller girl's body, holding her close. "In sophomore year, I believed you…I believed you because I remembered the girl you used to be before you got wrapped up in popularity. And after seeing you in glee club, so happy, so free…seeing how much you cared, in your own way of course…I knew you were special. And when I found out you were single…and I saw you get sadder with every day, I…I wanted to remind you of how special you are."

"And a quick fuck's gonna help me feel that? Screw you, Yentl." Santana lashed out, her insecurity and hurt saturating each word.

"I'm not even close to finished, Santana. I have excellent stamina and breath control, and plenty of hydration on hand. You don't deserve a quick fuck…I'll make sure you understand that." Rachel purred against the other girl's chest, before propping herself up on her elbows. "Now, where shall I start this time?"

* * *

It had taken a full second round before Santana had remotely touched Rachel intimately, but she'd expected that. It wasn't as if Santana didn't consent, she'd gotten the girl to vocalize that early in their second roll in the hay, she just understood that Santana was uncomfortable with the amount of attention she was getting. Rachel had heard the stories; literally, she'd gotten accounts from Puck and Brittany on their times with the girl, and it let her know that Santana always took charge. That Santana was usually on top, making her partners feel good. It was understandable that she wasn't used to being prioritized, and while she felt bad that Santana was made slightly uncomfortable by it, she took great pleasure in the sounds she elicited from the girl. It gave her hope that eventually she'd be excited at the prospect of it.

The night, however, quickly became a blur when Santana decided to become active; she recalled the girl complaining after her third orgasm that Rachel hadn't even had one, and that wasn't cool, which had made her giggle at the time, despite her body having been riding the edge of orgasm for close to half an hour at the time. She HAD been rather worked up from being able to touch Santana as much as she'd liked. In the end, Rachel was pretty sure the count was close to even, but she couldn't help but feel like she'd won the lottery, what with Santana spooning her. Rachel was exhausted, sure, but she was too gleeful to sleep, especially when Santana's soft breaths were washing against her shoulder, or with Santana's fingers laced with her own.

Still, she managed to get a few hours of sleep, and when six AM rolled around, her body was awake and sore yet again. Lithely, she snuck out of Santana's grasp, planting a kiss on her forehead before escaping into the bathroom to clean up and go through her morning prep.

About an hour and a half later she emerged, finding a sleepy looking Santana sitting up in bed, her disheveled self entirely too cute for Rachel to not go over and kiss. Santana's dazed stare followed her as she approached the bed, her eyes closing expectantly as Rachel leaned in and planted a chaste kiss on the girl's lips.

"Morning." She noted lightly, hopping onto the empty foot of the bed. The small smile on Santana's face lingered for a moment before contorting into a confused frown.

"I don't get it." The girl said thickly, still not clear of her sleep-induced haze. "Why did you…for months, you were, like, trying to seduce me or something. You were constantly up on my body and shit. But last night…" Santana's voice trailed off as she tried to lazily smooth out her hair a bit.

"If I had gone up to you a few months ago and asked you to be intimate with me, you would have laughed at me." Rachel stated softly, which had Santana averting her gaze, curiously. "I needed to get your attention, it wasn't that I wanted to go about that way, or to focus on primarily valuing you for your beauty…I just didn't know another way. I'm sorry for using your insecurity against you, Santana."

"I'm not insecure about it." The girl huffed, crossing her arms as she turned to sit sideways, facing away from Rachel.

Rachel allowed the girl some defensiveness, she understood that she'd likely hurt Santana initially. She just hoped that she'd healed that pain enough in the past twelve hours. "You don't like bringing emotion into sex. You constantly top and control it. You flaunt your body at school, yet you get breast implants because you wanted people to notice you more. Because maybe if more people saw you, there might be someone willing to look past your appearance and love the girl you keep safe from everyone." Rachel clarified, her heart tugging as she watched Santana's face fall. "You're more than your body, Santana. When I say that you're beautiful, I don't mean just physically."

She took a chance and reached out for the girl, gently tracing her fingertips up and down Santana's bicep. "What, you think you love me or something?" Santana asked in disbelief, but her voice was so small and strained that Rachel couldn't help but close the distance between them, quickly sitting behind the girl so she could wrap her arms around her, hold her close.

"I've liked you for years, Santana. And… I've been infatuated with you for months." Rachel started, resting her head against the back of Santana's shoulder. "But I've been falling for you these past weeks. I may not be there yet…but it wouldn't take much longer to say those three words definitively."

Santana remained silent in her arms as Rachel held her, thankful that the girl was at least leaning slightly into her touch. Minutes passed before the taller girl spoke. "Why?"

It was a simple question, much like most of Santana's, yet the answer was always complicated, because there was no simple collection of reasons that made the girl worthy of love. As weeks had passed, it was almost a daily occurrence to learn of a new one, and that was when Santana was being hostile toward her, mostly. She couldn't imagine all the parts that Santana hid away from the world.

"Because you're sweet, loyal, fiercely protective with one of the most determined personalities I've witnessed…you have a wonderfully creative mind that constantly surprises me, whether through your work choreographing glee numbers, or in art class with your paintings and graphite drawings. Because you're witty, charming and patient when you want to be, and you generously give your free time away to help Brittany and some other cheerios with their studies…and while I have little first-hand knowledge of it, your answers in History and English are often deceptively thought-provoking, leading me to believe there's a vast intelligence you keep hidden away, one that intrigues me." Rachel listed off calmly and patiently, hoping her words were convincing the girl. "Your laughter has consistently been the sound I look forward to most all day, because it's my best chance to really hear how full of joy you are. And while all the things I've listed aren't all of my reasons, and your actions and behaviour may not have been directed at me, or been because of me…but when I see you smile in glee, and when you direct that smile at me, all I know is that I want to make you smile like that all the time. Even when you're keeping yourself safe. To anyone who pays attention to the details, you'd still be so easy to love."

Santana let out a long sigh as she moved out of Rachel's arms, turning around enough to lower the diva to the bed with a gentleness she hadn't expected in the former cheerleader. Rachel soon found herself working as a human pillow, Santana lying down on top of her, the girl's arms wrapped around her waist. It was a nice feeling. "So what now?" the girl asked quietly as she got comfortable, letting out a pleased hum as Rachel stroked her raven locks.

"I can't expect you to feel the same for me in return, last night was all about you and letting you know how I feel about you, how amazing you are." Rachel whispered as her free hand caressed the other girl's back. "Just know that if you ever doubt yourself, that you can come to me, and I'll remind you in whatever way you need."

"And I can't ask you to freaking be my personal cheerleader whenever I need you to be." Santana grumbled against her while seemingly playfully nuzzling her shoulder.

"Santana, I want to be your friend, and friends do that for each other. Maybe not in the way I helped you last night, but…you deserve to have a friend who's always there, who cares about you." Rachel noted softly, kissing the top of the other girl's head. "I'd be happy with that role in your life."

"And what if I wasn't?" Santana questioned hesitantly, the girl leaning back and repositioning herself to straddle Rachel's hips. "I…fuck, you've been on my mind for weeks. Your legs…your ass…that sly fucking smile you give me sometimes in glee. You're so small, but…I like that."

Rachel couldn't help but smile brilliantly up at the girl, whose face was full of conflicted emotions. "Flattery will get you everywhere, Santana, but…you're not much taller than me." Rachel noted with amusement; she'd always found it odd that people made fun of her height, even though she was only slightly shorter than other girls, and was still within a normal height range for women.

"I know, and I like that you're smaller. You're a fucking tease, but I'm alright with that, because I am too. And I like it when you sing, okay? And you're just as fucking cutthroat as I am when it comes to getting what we want." Santana spoke quickly, her eyes closing as she took a deep breath. "You're annoying. You're overbearing, bossy, selfish, manipulative, and you like show tunes way too much for me to be comfortable with that. You're jealous and high maintenance from what I hear, too."

Rachel frowned at the list of flaws; she knew them well, as many people often pointed them out to her. She chided herself for allowing her hopes to be lifted after the start of Santana's speech, for the feeling of tears welling up in her eyes. Rachel knew she should be okay with being friends, it was just kind of wonderful for Santana to admit that she was attracted to her. The best she'd ever been given, compliment-wise, was that she was cute or hot, by Finn and Puck respectively. And those compliments were infrequent at best.

"But I…I'm kind of alright with all that, so long as you keep some of that in check or whatever, at least when we're together." Santana noted offhandedly, and despite the tone, Rachel couldn't help but memorize those words. It was as close as an 'I really like you too' as she figured she'd get out of the girl at the moment. "And Britt told me that you'd be good for me, and she's not usually wrong about that stuff. But I'm not your girlfriend or anything."

"We can…feel this whole thing out, Santana. I'm more than happy with that." Rachel admitted, blushing from Santana's ex telling her they'd be good together. Just the thought of being together with the girl made her heart burst with happiness.

"Yeah." Santana said softly, a predatory glint in her eyes as she finally opened them again, meeting Rachel's gaze. "We should probably feel things out." The girl added with a smirk, one of her hands traveling unimpeded to Rachel's ass, taking a firm squeeze of her flesh that forced a gasp from the diva.

Almost immediately, Rachel was on Santana, pushing the girl to her back as her mouth attacked her neck, one hand holding the girl's head in place while the other roughly kneaded the darker girl's breast. Santana's free hand gripped Rachel's raw back, forcing a whimper from the diva's throat, but Rachel continued on, bringing her head up to meet Santana's waiting lips in a feverish kiss. She maneuvered her hand down Santana's body and grazed the tip of her index finger along the girl's slit. Rachel's eyes widened at the fact that Santana was ready for her so soon.

Not taking a moment to hesitate, she thrust two fingers into the girl and pressed her thumb to the girl's clit, working the same rhythm Santana had coaxed her into the previous night. Again, she felt a searing pain on her back as Santana's nails managed to scrape her skin. It hurt, and she cried out a little bit from it, but she had more pressing concerns.

"Rach…what…" Santana breathed out beneath her, but Rachel silenced her with another kiss, nipping at the other girl's wonderfully soft lower lip as she pulled away.

"Just let me take care of you, San…" Rachel husked out as she inserted a third finger, knowing Santana wasn't far off by how the girl was practically riding her hand, her hips meeting her with each thrust. The taller girl's eyes held a look of concern for a brief instant, before Rachel decided there were better places for her to be paying attention to, like her breasts.

It wasn't long before Santana was sprawled on the bed, one arm clinging half-heartedly to Rachel's back as they both just rested. Rachel wasn't entirely satisfied, but she knew Santana would probably return the favour, so to speak, within a few minutes. While her research had carried her a great deal of the way through the previous night, she'd taken some tips from Santana, which seemed to make the taller girl pretty happy. And she wanted Santana to be happy.

Santana lazily moved her arm, lightly gripping Rachel's shoulder to flip them both over, but a hiss of pain from the diva stilled the former cheerleader's hand. "Berry?" Santana asked, her brow furrowed in concern as Rachel tried her best to hide the grimace of pain with a show smile. It didn't work. "Berry, sit up."

Rachel followed the order, looking guiltily at the comforter beneath her; she didn't want to cause the girl to worry about her. She was fine, her back was just a little sore.

"Oh my god, I mauled you!" Santana cried out, one hand covering her mouth as the other tenderly touched one raw area after the other. "You're bleeding…please tell me you have a first aid kit." The girl added, her voice turning harder, colder, sounding like she often did at school; Rachel didn't like that.

"San, it's okay, I'll be…" she started, but Santana was already off the bed, rummaging furiously through Rachel's luggage, grumbling to herself in Spanish. "Just come back here, please. I'm okay, you didn't hurt me."

Santana's head spun around, shooting her an angry glare that hurt far more than any of the abrasions she'd earned over the past hours. "Just…you should fucking leave or something. I always do this, it always happens, I shouldn't have let you top me!"

"I'm not going anywhere until you come over here, okay?" Rachel stated, challenging Santana's stern glare with a pleading look of her own. "I have a small kit in the front panel of my luggage."

She watched the girl quickly retrieve it and, with a huff, march over to her. "Get on your stomach, Berry." The girl grit out, but Rachel merely held out a hand, hoping Santana would follow her lead again. "Berry…"

"Santana, come here." She pleaded softly, needing the taller girl to let her show her that she was okay. She was relieved when Santana relented, placing the kit down at her side before taking her hand. Rachel gently led the girl back onto the bed and enveloped her in a hug. "I'm okay, San. Just a little sore. It'll heal, and I know you didn't mean it."

The other girl just burrowed her head into Rachel's neck, the affectionate gesture probably the biggest surprise of the morning. "I did it to Britt and Puck too. Every time I…I…"

Rachel rocked the girl back and forth slightly, hushing her words away. "Your nails weren't trimmed down all the way. Next time they will be, and it won't happen again. I'm fine…I'm so happy that you let me help you like that."

"I don't want to hurt you, Tink. I keep hurting you." Santana mumbled against her shoulder, and it was all Rachel could do to keep her smile from splitting her face open.

"The joy you've brought me in the past few hours has made up for any harm you've done to me, San. And I've forgiven you, okay? I know you won't try to hurt me, and that's all I ask of you." Rachel said, as reassuringly as she could, giving the girl huddled against her a tight squeeze. "I'm okay, San. And if you want to patch me up, if it'll make you feel better, I'll be happy to lay here, okay?"

Santana gently separated from her and gave a determined nod, the girl allowing her eyes to meet Rachel's. Rachel watched the taller girl open the kit and get out some band-aids and alcohol wipes, then positioned herself on her stomach, as the girl previously requested. She soon felt soft fingers touch her wounds yet again, and couldn't help but hear Santana's stifled gasp at the sight; it must have looked rather bad. "I'm so sorry, Tink. I'm so sorry."

Rachel felt herself tear up at the affection and regret in Santana's voice; it was wonderful to know she cared so much, but it hurt to hear how bad the girl felt. "I know, baby. Help me get better, okay?" she asked tearfully, trying her best to hide evidence of her emotion, knowing it would likely just upset the girl more.

"I'll take care of you, Rach." She heard just inches from her ear as the girl wiped her skin with the alcohol wipes. It stung, and she flinched, and hissed in pain, and whimpered throughout it all; yet, with every painful touch, Santana's lips would kiss part of her body. She kind of wanted to laugh at the 'kiss it better' logic, but it really was working to calm her and make her forget about the pain, so instead she gave thankful hums with each pleasant ministration.

Rachel wasn't sure when Santana had finished cleaning her up and bandaging her, her mind too focused on the soft lips peppering her body with slow, tantalizing affection. She really wished she had the capacity to understand Spanish in those moments, Santana whispering foreign words to her as her lips and hands tenderly caressed her. Each touch left a burning desire in her, Santana patiently building her back up with every fleeting graze of her nipple, every tender stroke of her ribs, every playful nip against her neck, every soft kiss against her abs. It was a slow burn, but it was lovely, and she could see that Santana was doing with her body what she couldn't say with words.

"You're so soft…" Santana whispered against her ear, running her tongue up the edge of it. "Did Finn ever touch you like this?"

Rachel was surprised by the question; she had expected it the previous night when they had both been rather aggressive, not when Santana was, daresay, touching her with a loving affection. "No…only you, San. You're the only one who's made me feel like this." She tried to be calm and collected, but despite Santana's touches being slow and deliberate, she was finding it difficult to breathe and focus from how much she desperately wanted to touch Santana in return. She knew that it meant a lot for Santana to do this for her, so she refrained, and it was pretty much all she could will herself to do.

"How do I make you feel, Tink?" the girl asked again, her mouth working back down her neck again; she was sure she'd have a number of hickeys to cover up for later when they had to go practice.

"Cherished. Safe. And so incredibly turned on." She choked out as Santana's head worked its way down her body, the girl smiling bright-eyed at her from between her legs.

Not that she forgot from the previous night, but Santana was exceptionally magnificent at eating her out; it was a fact of life that she couldn't have been happier about as her hands clenched the comforter around her. The girl's tongue was a wizard unto itself, contorting in shape in ways she hadn't imagined a tongue could, stroking her in ways that still baffled her; Santana's reputation as a 'lizard that needed a warm body under her' was partially correct, from what she could tell by the length of the thing as it thrusted into her repeatedly and agilely, forcing her hips to buck into the girl's face. Between her efforts and the mere thought of Santana emerging from her with a face covered in her pleasure, Rachel quickly came, her body shuddering as she mouthed a silent scream from all the pent up pleasure she'd endured.

Rachel wasn't sure when she'd blacked out, but it happened; otherwise Santana wouldn't have been immediately at her side, holding her, their faces inches apart. She smiled at the sight of Santana's face, still slick. "You okay, Tink?" the girl asked warmly, her eyes hopeful and pleading; Rachel had no words for the beautiful sight before her, so she merely closed the distance and pulled Santana into a gentle kiss, showing how thankful she was about how sweet the girl had been with her.

"I'm perfect, San. Thank you." She said, not at all concerned about the fact that her morning moisturizing and cleaning ritual was entirely nullified by their collective efforts. Rachel nuzzled into the girl's wet cheek and held her close, enjoying Santana's warmth. "Not just for making me feel special, but for the new nickname. I approve."

Santana chuckled nervously at that. "I, uh…well, I don't usually use full names, and…well, I thought it kinda fit." The girl stammered out adorably, and Rachel couldn't help but feel that she was falling at terminal velocity for Santana.

"Because I'm tiny and often move from one extreme mood to the next?" Rachel asked playfully; she was pretty sure she'd like the pet name for any reason the other girl could give, she'd always enjoyed the character in the books, plays and films.

"Because you're cute." Santana noted shyly, and Rachel was pretty sure if she bit her lip any harder, it'd bleed.

All she'd wanted was the girl's attention, so that she could get closer to her, be her friend. She hadn't expected anything more. She hadn't expected them to have sex, for Santana to take her virginity. She hadn't expected for the girl to be worried about her, to care for her, to like anything about her, to call her cute.

Turns out a little frustration can go a long way.

* * *

**A/N: This is the closest to PWP that I'll likely ever get. It's been a very long time since I've written anything remotely sexual, so I figured I'd work off the rust with this. I'm not too incredibly happy with it, but I at least have a better idea of where my shortcomings currently are, and what needs work. Doing the one person at a time approach helped with that a fair bit.**

**Anywho, hope you enjoyed. :)**

**Also, to answer the guest reviewer from ch7 who remarked about Quinn and Brittany, I'm sorry if I've come across that way. I generally love both of the blonde characters, I just don't feel confident writing Britt yet, so I tend to avoid including her, which may make her seem distant and uncaring I suppose. But I've always seen her as supportive of San, just not exactly always on the same wavelength as her (especially romantically, which generally is a necessity for me when it comes to pezberry, because I refuse to write a Britt-San-Rachel love triangle). And I think, in 'Rumours', her and Quinn would have seen Santana storm off enough in the past to not think much of it, and I doubt they'd believe Kurt over what they knew of Santana anyway. Much like how I figure Santana would still be hurting two weeks after Britt's rejection to not be a little dramatic, by saying Rachel was the only one who cared, because Britt does, she (in that instance, having chose Artie over San) just doesn't care in the way San needed her to.  
And Quinn, I'll admit, I can sometimes write as pretty uninterested (their default state in the show is 'frienemy', so I figured that it'd be alright to keep Q out of the picture sometimes), but she always tends to have something of her own going on, especially senior year. I've got like, 3 unpublished fics where Quinn is Santana's supportive best friend(well, aside from Britt being her BFF), and I guess that I just haven't been paying attention to what I have and haven't been publishing when it came to the blondes, because I like including Quinn. Either way, I love both, and I'm kind of a Brittana shipper (but refuse to write fics with that pairing because I can't do it justice), so I'll make a more concerted effort to include those two more often, whenever I can find the room. :)**


	9. Caught

_50 Words in 30 Days:_ **#11 Caught**

* * *

Quinn couldn't have been more thankful for Brittany's request for help. The girl had been genuinely concerned about the migratory patterns of the ducks at the local pond, and that her favourite duckies wouldn't return the next year to show her how grown up they'd all become. Honestly, Quinn pretty much just guessed her way through the other blonde's questions, eventually appeasing her with the idea that they tend to visit the same places throughout their route, including the pond they usually stayed in over at the eastern edge of Lima.

She made sure to extend the conversation as long as she could, knowing that if Santana wasn't around, Britt would have lightning fast showers, helping the locker room vacate more quickly. Which, ultimately, was the case; Quinn followed the other blonde into the room and fiddled around in her locker for a few minutes until her friend was gone. Not that she hated Britt, but she was worked up and didn't want anyone else nearby.

Meticulously, Quinn scoured the room for any evidence of other people, not that there was much room to hide, or much reason. All she found, in the end, was that there was a leaky pipe somewhere in the room, dripping slightly and consistently. Not a Cheerio in sight. She allowed herself a sigh of relief as she locked the door leading out to the hallway, knowing that the locker room, unless the back door was open, was inaccessible from the outside. She felt safe, finally, after a grueling day. A shower felt right up her alley.

Quinn, feeling like she'd finally found some luck, stepped into the showers, finding her favourite spot amongst the rows, cranking the hot water to wash Santana's touches off of her before she went crazy. Honestly, she had endured tremendously difficult practices in the past, but never any so physically, emotionally, and sexually frustrating. On one hand, Sue had run them through hell, and having Santana to help her through most of the manoeuvres was a blessing, because there were never any mistakes. On the other hand, it mostly meant that she'd spent far too much time with Santana's hands all over her body. Heck, she nearly fainted when Santana was helping her stretch; the feeling of the shorter girl's body pressing against hers had been simply too much. Quinn could only hope that Santana hadn't noticed the hitches in her breathing. She was pretty sure she'd stifled any moans, but she had a harder time with her breathing, especially after such a ridiculous practice. Even more so when Santana had collapsed beside her, looking like she'd just gone a few rounds with Britt; the girl's eyes had been slightly glazed over with satisfaction, a dazed smile on her face, and Quinn had nearly lost herself at the moment their eyes met. It had been all she could do to keep from ducking down and just devouring the other girl.

In truth, it was by the grace of Brittany S. Pierce that she wasn't still on the field, having her way with Santana. The other blonde had saved her, let her escape the situation intact. Quinn felt a guilty reluctance to step into the stream of water; sure she wanted to rid herself of any exposure to Santana, but at the same time, she'd truly enjoyed it all. It was just that she couldn't keep it, she had to wash herself clean of the evidence, of the memory, and the sweat of course. It all just filled her with too many impure thoughts, and she had to keep those to a minimum if she wanted to maintain what she had, if she wanted to be prom queen and be perfect again. Or, as perfect as she could be.

But under the hot pressure of the shower's spray, she couldn't help but let her free hand explore, the tension in her body just too much to ignore. Quinn really didn't want to succumb to her desires, but her day had been overwhelming. If it had just been the practice, she was pretty sure she'd be able to refrain, but the glee session before practice was ridiculous. Santana had practically given her a public lap dance to some Shakira song, and it was hard enough not to jump the girl then. And all throughout the day, Santana had stood and walked so close to her between classes, whispering absolutely vacuous gossip in her ear for no freaking reason. It had been such a frustrating day that she couldn't really be too angry with herself, her hand simply trying to finish the job that the other girl had started, considering how wet she'd been when entering the locker room. Her body had practically been vibrating through her search and on the way to the showers, and the stream of water just played on how sensitive her body had become. So when her hand drifted between her legs, she decided to just get it over with as soon as possible, so that she could get back on track. It couldn't be too damaging to dip into her fantasies if it meant speeding the process up, right?

Quinn closed her eyes, allowing herself to imagine it was Santana's slim hands that were touching her; she felt the girl's fingers slip against her folds, and could imagine the shorter girl's body pressed against her back, guiding her through her desires. If she tried hard enough, she could smell Santana's tangerine body wash in the air around her. She felt two of Santana's fingers dip into her wet core, both digits falling into rhythm at Quinn's favourite pace; the other cheerleader knew how to please her, knew how to make her squirm and writhe in pleasure. Quinn bit back a gasp as Santana ran her thumb roughly against her clit, her knees nearly buckling at the sensation of the girl's thumbnail being dragged back against her swollen nub.

Distantly, she heard herself vocalize her pleasure; even though she knew no one else was around, she still immediately brought the hand that had long since stopped scrubbing up to her mouth, her teeth biting down on her knuckles to stifle get another moan as her hips canted forward against her will. Her orgasm was close at hand, bearing down on her, and she couldn't help but slip that hand down to a vacant breast, following her primal need to milk the moment for as much pleasure as possible. It wasn't every day that Santana touched her like that, with such skill and care; it wasn't everyday that her imagination felt only a hair's width away from reality. It was exhilarating!

Santana's voice was on the tip of her tongue as she plummeted toward climax, the first syllable escaping her lips over and over as she fell into desperation. Quinn shifted her body's weight against the wall for support. She could almost hear Santana's husky, whispering voice telling her to let go, to let go for her.

As with any orgasm, there was always a barrier of guilt her father had instilled in her that she always needed to work past, because Quinn had never simply had an orgasm before; it had always featured some girl, usually Santana. That made for quite a lot of guilt. She desperately needed release, but her morals kept screaming at her to push it all aside, to stop, that Quinn could live without it. That she HAD to live without it.

Quinn struggled as Santana's digits still moved within her, but she found the will to force them out, placing one of her hands on her thigh and the other on her stomach as the illusion shattered. She was fighting to catch her breath and to keep any semblance of composure, her body convulsing lightly in anticipation of intimacy. It was all she could do to keep from falling once again to her primal needs, to keep her hands where they were, to still the bucking of her hips, not at all pleased with the sudden loss of contact. Even if it had been her own hands, not the girl of her dreams' fingers.

It was all so frustrating, so damn frustrating! Why couldn't she be allowed to have what she wanted, for once? It wasn't fair! All she wanted at that moment was to feel something good, even if it wasn't Santana. Everyone else got to have fun, it wasn't right that she had to miss out; her potential prom title wasn't predicated on the notion that she was a virgin, after all. Quinn just wanted to not always feel so damn guilty, her thoughts tangling up as she let out a sob, clutching the shower knob for support as she sunk to her knees, needing some release. Because even if it wasn't what she wanted, it was something; abstaining gave her a sense of control, of perfection.

A perfection that shattered as she heard a single syllable spoken quietly from a pair of familiar lips, Quinn freezing in place at the sight of the naked girl standing at the entrance to the showers.

"Q?"

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**A/N: Well, well, well! Two smutty one-shots in a row! This one was light, though. Not much going on, mostly thoughts. Hope you like this follow up to "Denial" and "Tease". There's one more in this series, so don't fret at the cliffhanger, please :) I'm not THAT cruel. **

**Thank you all for supporting me this month, it's been a lot of fun so far, and I appreciate you taking a dive on a fic without a compelling summary. I know most one-shot collections don't get much traffic, but it means a lot that mine's had as much as it has.**

**Oh, and to respond to some guest reviewers, I've considered a follow-up to my "Drunk" prompt, I just don't have a truly solid idea yet. But perhaps in the coming week or two.**

**And Rachel was a bit "worshipee" in 'Infatuation' because I kind of wanted to play with how Rachel was around her love interests in high school. Finn and Jesse...she was kind of like that with them, and I wanted to see if I could write her like that about Santana, and still have the fic be sweet and compelling. It's not necessarily a trait I really liked about Rachel, but I can't always write that aspect of her out of my stories. So I included it that time, but I likely won't again, in such a context.**


	10. Boyfriend

_50 Words in 30 Days:_ **#15 Boyfriend**

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Quinn had a boyfriend. Of course, she was the head cheerleader, daughter of a wealthy, influential protestant family, so not just any boy would do to hold that title. No, her boy was the popular head quarterback, tall, handsome, owned an oddly charming smile; he was as good a boy you could find in Lima to hold the title, so Quinn had naturally chosen him. Together, they ruled the school as the power couple. It was simply how things were supposed to be. Girls like her needed boyfriends, and she had Finn Hudson. She had the best around.

However, it was all kind of a coincidence. The social intangibles were a draw, true, but she had different reasons for dating him. For instance, he was really tall. This, ultimately, was the main reason she was dating him; Finn was so huge that it would be impossible to imagine Rachel in his place whenever they hugged or kissed or got remotely intimate. His skin was rough and calloused, a vast difference from what little she'd felt of Rachel's skin in passing moments. His eyes were a lighter, duller brown, and much smaller than Rachel's large, intensely brown orbs. It was the same way that his hair was much duller and shorter than Rachel's long, smooth, thick brown hair. His lips were small and thin, while her lips looked luscious and plump. He stumbled over his words constantly due to his lack of wit and low intelligence, where Rachel was talkative and incredibly smart. Finn lacked direction and ambition outside of a minimal interest in football, where Rachel was incredibly ambitious and passionate in everything she did. He was a horrible dancer, while Rachel was elegant and graceful. He always smelled like Old Spice, while Rachel had a different scent for each season and occasionally on special events. His voice was lower, more monotone, with a lack of power behind it, whereas Rachel's was a pretty sing-song sort of voice, and much lighter; the diva's vocals were so emotive and powerful that she often had a difficult time containing her own feelings. Finn just never was able to have that effect on her.

He had an uncertain, evasive sort of enthusiasm, while Rachel was always excited about something; the diva could always focus on something to keep her balanced. Finn drank and tried to pressure her for sex all the time, while Rachel abstained from both liquor and sex, while still holding the opinion that sex was a good, healthy action. Not that Quinn was going to have sex any time soon, but she had moved past the thought of it being a horrible, sinful deed. Most girls did certain things in their private time, and she'd learned that while she rarely did it, it wasn't a horrible sin. At least, she didn't feel it was. After all, Rachel had given her the courage to, at least where she could afford to, distance herself from her familial and social expectations. Even if most of her efforts and newfound freedoms weren't visible, it was invigorating, and Rachel was her primary motivator.

But with each day, Rachel's ambition and drive rubbed off on her. With each day, life seemed a little brighter, a little more promising. That maybe she'd leave Lima after graduation. So what if she kind of hoped to find herself in New York City in the future? Maybe she'd still be with a boyfriend, maybe she wouldn't have Rachel, but she would have gained a lot with the brunette's help either way. And that was something Finn couldn't offer her. Rachel's influence actually meant something, it made a difference in her life. It just didn't seem too horrible to hope that she'd have a chance to get closer, eventually, when she was strong enough.

Hope had never been a safe bet for the Fabrays, her family had always focused on faith. But maybe it was okay for Quinn to have a bit of faith in Rachel too. And maybe, whenever she was feeling particularly good, and saw the diva, she'd whistle 'Say a Little Prayer'. At least, when it was safe to.

So Quinn had to keep her distance. It just wasn't safe to be near the diva, yet. Finn, he was safe. He was her boyfriend. The word 'girlfriend' wasn't even in her family's vocabulary. She was pretty sure it shouldn't even be in her own, and that it likely wasn't in Rachel's either, so Quinn decided to be safe for both of them. She had a boyfriend in Finn Hudson, and Rachel liked Finn. So she'd hold onto him, she'd stay safe, and keep Rachel from settling with someone beneath her standards. And maybe, once she got the courage, and if Rachel was still single, she'd ditch the best boy around and try for the best person around. Even if she didn't match up. And maybe that would be good, to be in a position where being a Fabray simply didn't matter, didn't have any effect on who she was. Where the value of her character meant more than anything.

And maybe, one day, Rachel would actually see her, and like what she saw. With Rachel's unwitting help, Quinn had faith that she could one day be an unsafe option for the diva. Rachel deserved someone who was just as challenging, incredible and ambitious as her Broadway dreams, after all.

But for now, she had Finn. She had a boyfriend. Because she was just a girl. But she'd be a woman one day. And like Rachel, she'd keep her eyes on the prize.

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**A/N: Kind of just had this idea hit me today. Was a bit of a rambling mess of thoughts that spilled from my fingers to my word document, but I hope it was enjoyable. Kind of wanted to toss a shred of faberry in there. If I'm honest, I like reading it more than writing it, simply because so many people already write faberry that I don't really feel like I'm contributing much. Don't get me wrong, I like the pairing, I'm more comfortable writing Quinn now, and I WILL write faberry stuff, I just like writing pezberry and quinntana more. So while I have a few cute faberry ideas, you'll probably see more of the other two pairings and friendships. **

**Anywho, I hope you enjoyed it, and I really have to thank you all for your support :) You've all been absolutely wonderful :D**


	11. Sleepover

_50 Words in 30 Days:_ **#8 Sleepover**

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The night had been, surprisingly, a massive success; Rachel honestly hadn't expected the turnout to be quite as good, nor did she expect everyone to behave, but it had been nearly perfect. A month prior, she'd sent out invitations yet again for a birthday party sleepover. The previous two years, no one had even stopped by to say hello and offer birthday wishes, so it had surprised her that everyone had shown up. Even more of a surprise was that Brittany and Santana had been the first to arrive, and neither seemed put off by the fact that they were attending a party in her house, celebrating her birthday. It had been somewhat baffling.

Of course, Santana had to be Santana, which meant that every time the doorbell rang, the taller girl consistently beat her to the door and unleashed her snarky wit on the other guests. Though, from what she could hear, it was more playful than malicious, which had been another surprise. Not that Santana hadn't taken strides to improve her relations with the other glee members; ever since she and Brittany had split, the raven-haired girl had been seemingly trying harder to be nicer and stay included. Rachel had a feeling that Santana may have thought that glee would all side with the blonde, and leave her out in the cold, which simply wasn't the case at all. Still, Rachel appreciated the girl's efforts; she just didn't expect it to last, or to be consistent.

They'd all spent most of the night watching movies and occasionally picking them apart, eating snacks, and partaking in gossip and small talk. It meant the world to Rachel that everyone seemed to be getting along, and that her fellow gleeks seemed to be having a good time. If not for the horror film 'The Strangers' that they left the marathon off on, Rachel was sure she would have been able to cap the night off over an hour ago.

Instead, she found herself wide awake and fairly terrified, on her bed, between Tina and Brittany. Rachel had never been fond of horror movies, but she and Brittany had been outvoted by most of the other girls in the verdict, so she'd sat through it, spending most of the film hidden under her blanket. Pathetic, true, but she was admittedly a scaredy-cat. And she knew that without her usual means of calming down after such a film, she wouldn't get any sleep, and she wasn't willing to risk the night's success. Rachel knew she could catch up on sleep in the morning after breakfast, perhaps. It was winter break, after all.

However, later in the night, she heard a light rustling and opened her eyes just in time to see someone slip out her bedroom door. Rachel checked her clock, seeing that it was just past one in the morning. It was an odd time to get up, so she chalked it up to a simple bathroom break. But when the clock showed it was one-thirty in the morning, Rachel decided to slip out of bed and see what was going on.

After taking a few moments to gracefully pry herself away from the other two girls, she silently left her room and kept focused on any sounds. A light rattling sound emanated from downstairs, freezing Rachel to the spot for a moment, filled with unease. Slowly and cautiously, she descended her staircase and made her way toward the back door where the sound came from, creeping quietly down the hall toward the kitchen where the sound of a window opening met her ears. Rachel took a moment to collect herself and gain some courage before peeking her head around the corner; the room was pitch black, but it wasn't difficult to quickly spot a girl by the window above the sink.

"Is everything okay?" she asked quietly, prompting the other girl to turn around quickly, eyes wide in surprise. It seemed entirely weird that Santana was walking around her house late at night, and she kind of wanted answers.

The other girl shrugged once she was composed. "I, uh…couldn't sleep, so I decided to walk around." Santana spoke quietly, though there was definitely a familiar edge to her voice.

"Were you getting some fresh air? I heard you open the window." Rachel asked, and Santana's gaze immediately left hers, which was an entirely foreign situation. The taller girl had always had a challenging stare, and never backed down from it, yet there she was, staring at the drawer holding her family's silverware.

"It's nothing, don't worry about it." Santana grit out, the girl moving to charge past her, but Rachel was quick, blocking the relatively narrow doorway with her body. Rachel ignored Santana's frustrated sigh, and instead tried to seek out the girl's attention once again, now that she had a decent idea of what was going on.

"You were checking the windows and doors to see if they were locked." Rachel noted softly, earning a disgruntled huff from the taller girl. "It's okay to be scared by horror movies, Santana."

"It wasn't the movie!" Santana hissed out angrily, before almost immediately checking her anger, pacing back toward the sink, resting her hands on the edges of the counter beside it. Rachel cautiously followed her across the room, standing off to the side; close enough to be supportive, she felt, but far enough to give her some space. "Last month, some people broke into my home. My…my parents were gone, it was just me and my little brother. I guess they must have known my dad well or something because they cleaned his shit out right away, but…they searched every room. Two of them had guns, one had a knife, and…we didn't get hurt, but it was close a few times, until we got to the guest room and were able to get onto the roof."

Rachel let the silence descend on them for a few moments before she closed the distance and, not knowing what really to do, rested a hand on Santana's shoulder. "I'm sorry…I didn't know. I would have had them choose another…"

"Look, I didn't know what it was about either, it's just that hit a little too close to home, okay? And I couldn't sleep without knowing that everything was locked, so…I guess you can laugh at me now, or whatever." Santana added, her voice trailing off nervously at the end, something she hadn't really experienced from the taller girl. Rachel honestly couldn't imagine how terrified she would have been in that sort of situation, and was only happy to help ease the girl's mind.

"What rooms haven't you checked yet?" she asked, ignoring Santana's self-deprecating remark, happy to see the other girl appear a little relieved at her answer.

Santana led her to the den, where they worked quickly to check all the windows. Once Rachel finished up with her last one, she looked at Santana, who was clearly satisfied. "That's it." The girl noted serenely, looking entirely relaxed and sleepy. "Let's get you back to bed, okay?"

Rachel nodded hesitantly and allowed Santana to lead her through the main floor and back up the stairs, but she couldn't help but plant her feet as they neared her room. Santana looked back questioningly, before seeming to realize that perhaps she wasn't the only one who was having difficulty sleeping. "Why were you awake, anyway?"

Rachel blushed and leaned up against the doorframe of the guest bedroom, her teeth chewing on her lower lip. It was kind of embarrassing, and she was pretty sure Santana would laugh at her. "I'm too worked up and scared to sleep."

Santana simply nodded, her brow furrowed as she took a spot across from Rachel, leaning against the railing. "Britt's a really huggable pillow, and she's really warm…maybe you could let her help?" Santana asked, her gaze on the ceiling as she seemed to be thinking up solutions.

"I…well, she was warm, but she didn't help. You should go get some sleep, I'm sure I'll be alright soon." Rachel stated as confidently as she could, offering Santana a reassuring smile and nod; she didn't want to tie the other girl up in her humiliatingly stereotypical issues.

Instead, the taller girl stepped away from the railing and pulled Rachel into the guest room by the wrist, more gently than she would have expected. "Berry, you could have laughed at me, but you helped me, and that means something, okay? So just tell me what you need."

"I'd never laugh at anyone being put through such a horrible situation! And I don't want you helping me because you feel you have to, Santana." Rachel said, crossing her arms as she plopped down on the foot of the bed. She hadn't helped Santana to win anything from her, or anything. She helped because it was the right thing to do.

"It's not like that…look, I used to be horrible to you. I've tried to be better, but I fucked up hard with you, and I wanted this to be a new start or whatever. And then even though you have no reason to still be nice to me, you were, and I don't HAVE to help you, alright?" Santana stated quickly, her frustrated words spilling from her lips at a lighting pace. "But I want to, because if you can be that nice after all the shit I've put you through, maybe…look, I want to be nicer. I want to get used to it, and you deserve people being nice to you, so just tell me what you need, or I'll improvise or whatever."

Rachel stared at the babbling cheerleader, feeling both a great amount of confusion and a great amount of pride. She couldn't help but feel that maybe, just maybe, she helped kill Santana's mean side with her kindness. "Just please…don't laugh." Rachel noted, ducking her head. She had just enough courage to speak the words, but she had none left for looking at the taller girl, for seeing her reaction. After a few moments of silence, she continued. "I don't like horror movies, I…I get scared really easily. Normally, after I'm put to sleep, I…well, I, um…I sing to myself."

The sound of an amused hum softly filled the room, Rachel instinctively shrinking away against the bed; she just wanted to disappear, but Santana was quickly slipping down onto the bed, the taller girl sliding behind her. "That sounds like the Rachel Berry we all know and love." Santana noted good-naturedly, which was confusing, but not as baffling as the feel of two arms wrapping around her waist, or her body being lifted and rested on Santana's lap. Not that Rachel was really all that much smaller than the other girl, but she seemed to fit well, Santana's chin resting on the top of her right shoulder. "You didn't want to do that in front of everyone else, right?"

Rachel nodded slowly, wrapping her arms over Santana's, hoping to signal that she was comfortable where she was, hoping the other girl wouldn't release her hold. "Right."

"Do you need to sing to yourself, or could someone else sing to you?" Santana asked, and the air in Rachel's lungs seemed to just vanish, because she found herself quietly gasping for air. The prospect of Santana singing to her in such an intimate context was literally breathtaking. The other girl seemed to notice, relaxing her hold slightly. "You okay?"

Rachel put aside the concern saturating Santana's voice and simply nodded once more. "My fathers were never very good singers…no one's ever sang to me like that. I…would honestly welcome it."

As her words escaped her lips, Rachel felt Santana hold her a little closer again, pulling the both of them down onto the bed and onto their sides. It felt nice being spooned by someone who wasn't over a foot larger than her; Rachel didn't feel like she was about to be swallowed by some mythical deep-sea god like she sometimes did with Finn. His weird, murky-smelling deodorant or cologne wasn't the most relaxing thing after scary movies, after all. Santana was just a little taller, and she was a lot softer. Perhaps not as warm or bulky, but she felt comforted and safe. "What do you want to hear?" Rachel heard the girl whisper against her ear, and the reality of her situation kind of gently fell upon her. She was in bed, being held by Santana Lopez, who was offering to sing her to sleep. It was surreal, and she couldn't help herself from answering with her instincts.

"Something reassuring and sweet." She mumbled, quickly answered by a content hum. Sometimes Rachel would sing songs from Broadway, sometimes she'd sing something more fitting with mainstream music, but it was almost always something sweet that let her know she was safe and secure and loved. While she was certain Santana would be particular in her song choice, to avoid such things, Rachel just hoped it'd be something she could just melt into, because the girl's voice had always been paradoxically soothing and exciting. It was as if she never really knew how to react, unless the girl was singing some powerful song.

"Here, here…let's just stay here. You should just sleep here." Santana sang hesitating before singing 'just', almost sounding as if she was having difficulty recalling the song. Which she couldn't blame the girl for; not everyone could memorize hundreds of songs. "Here, here…let's just stay here. I should hold you dear."

Rachel smiled at the girl's voice, her eyelids already drooping as Santana's warm body embraced her, the girl's voice soft and quiet on her ear, the song for her and her alone. "When the wind comes…and the sun again, my love, I'll be here." Santana continued, Rachel unsure if a gentle squeeze was simply for effect, or because she'd just slightly repositioned herself against her.

Rachel kind of wanted to feel surprised that the girl used that word, but considering the context of her situation, and how delightfully comfy she was as she lay against Santana, she couldn't. That it sounded nothing less than sincere was the surprise, though Rachel chalked it up to a friendship sort of love. Not that she wasn't open to Sapphic desires, as she'd had her own in the past, but Santana's tastes certainly excluded her. From their history, that much was obvious. "I found a way true…in silence, with you. What do you hear? And what do you want to hear?" the girl sang, Rachel quickly falling victim to the lulling tones of the song. She couldn't help the smile that spread across her face, knowing her birthday would end in quite a remarkably nice way.

"Here, here…get me out of here. Wake me under city lights, and apple and a kiss on my ear." Santana continued, leaving a light, chaste kiss on the shell of her ear; Rachel hummed with contentment and nestled further against the singing girl, feeling too comfortable to not slip toward slumber. "Fly like days, let time erase all our mistakes. I found a way true…in silence, with you. What do you hear?"

She felt one of the arms holding her gently shift away for a moment, before Rachel felt a blanket being pulled over her. "And what do you want…to hear?" Santana sang, holding the last note for a few moments before going silent, aside from light shuffling, both arms now having vacated her. Rachel frowned, not liking that development at all. And the loss of that comfortable warmth woke her up just enough to feel confident that she could put together a full sentence.

"That you'll stay with me." She whispered into the room, knowing Santana hadn't left yet. After all, it was a sleepover; girls shared beds all the time. Even with warm, cozy, attractive ones who could be surprisingly sweet. Surely there wasn't any harm done, not with how easily Santana slipped against her back, those toned, tan arms returning to their home around her stomach. And even when Rachel interweaved her own hands with Santana's, and migrated them up to her chest, she didn't notice any complaining on the cheerleader's behalf. Instead, she felt the taller girl's legs tangle between her own, and Santana pull Rachel ever so closer.

She'd been absolutely correct before, her night was a massive success. Perhaps her morning would start off the same way as well.

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**A/N: This popped into my head on the two and a half hour drive home, and I'm glad I remembered it, though the song I had initially wanted to include managed to slip my mind, sadly. Anywho, I figured this would be kind of cute. And you all know how much I love my pezberry fluff!**

**Thanks everyone for reading and supporting me this past while. Hard to believe this helps me eclipse 600k published words on this site. Mind-boggling!**

**Song is "City Lights" by Devics, by the way. A band that I highly recommend if only because Sara Lov's voice is mesmerizing.**


	12. Pregnant

_50 Words in 30 Days:_ **#48 Pregnancy**  
**A/N: This is slightly AU, mostly because I shifted the timeline around a bunch.**

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The sound of mariachi music exploded into the room, about a foot away from Quinn's head, startling her awake from her slumber. Her hands were lazy as her sleep-addled mind tried to catch up to the reality that Santana was calling her at what looked to be two-something in the morning, her limbs scrambling to act and shut off the obnoxious ringtone she'd set to purposefully antagonize her oldest friend. It wasn't as if she was racist or anything, she just loved getting a rise out of the other girl, and Santana's unrelenting hatred of mariachi music usually brought a smile to her face, like it had the first time Santana realized it was the ringtone assigned to her.

But it was a Tuesday night, and two in the morning. As her fingers finally found the device, her gut was screaming that it wasn't likely to be a smile-worthy occasion. Cautiously she answered the phone and brought it to her ear. "Santana?" she asked simply, not really sure what was an appropriate ice-breaker at that time of night, and her hazy mind was still struggling to understand what was going on.

"Q, you need to let me in, I…I swear, if I'm stuck out here for another five minutes with these mouth-breathing missing links, I'm gonna shut myself away in solitary confinement." Santana spoke hastily, clearly on edge.

Quinn slid out of her bed, stepped into her slippers and tossed on her robe, deciding to do as she was requested. "Gimme a minute, I was sleeping, S. What's up?" she asked, hoping to fill the time it took to go downstairs to the lobby with some sort of conversation.

"The guy that keeps fucking staring at me looks like he's about to sexually assault a Doritos bag, okay? Isn't Yale supposed to be some sort of genius-land, Quinn? I still have to put up with idiots here, Q, you better be hauling that pasty ass of yours!" Santana rambled, Quinn more than a little aware that when Santana was upset, she took it out on everyone. Usually humanity as a whole, but sometimes individual, innocent bystanders if she was really worked up, which seemed to be the case. The slight quiver in the girl's voice only alarmed her more, so she was already quickly making her way down the stairs, not willing to wait for the elevator.

"I'm almost there, San. Take the stick out of your ass, I thought you weren't into that stuff." Quinn shot back playfully, but all she got in response was a scoff, and what sounded like the briefest, faintest sniffle she'd heard. No doubt Santana had held the phone as far away from her, trying to conceal it.

Within seconds, she was at the doors to her dorm building, throwing them open, startling Santana, who'd been sitting down on them; her eyes did happen to spot some other person leaning against a tree, holding a Doritos bag awkwardly near his crotch, but it seemed inconsequential to the fact that Santana was already up and storming pas her and up the stairs.

Quinn caught up to her and led the way back to her dorm, both of them walking in silence the whole way. She unlocked her door and led her friend in, opening the door to her individual room. Santana went in, and Quinn let the girl compose herself while she went off to the kitchen to grab two glasses of water.

Her first thought was that something happened with Brittany again. She'd been aware of their break-up for a long time, but hadn't heard much from either girl since. Quinn knew Santana was still likely very much in love with the tall blonde; her friend loved fiercely when she allowed herself to love someone, and that wasn't something that could fade away quickly, or that was easy to get over. Even with it having been well over a year since Brittany left for MIT and closed the door on her and San's relationship for good, she knew it was still a sore spot with Santana, and that Brittany would often change her mind.

She braced herself for the thought of it being a difficult night, knowing she'd never been the best at pep talks or comforting Santana; that had always been Brittany's territory and responsibility in their Unholy Trinity, and Quinn felt a bit disoriented about having that thrust upon her.

Not that she didn't want to help Santana. Quinn just worried that she'd make some missteps, and cause more hurt. And above almost everything else in her life, she hated hurting her friends. Losing Beth, along with her time she'd spent in glee, had helped her understand that life is hard, and that she needed to hold onto as much good as she could find in her life.

Cautiously, she approached her room, spying the dark shape of Santana, sitting at the foot of her bed in the dark. Quinn thought she'd at least flick on the lights; Santana had never been one for drama, and usually took steps to reduce it in any way when she brought up serious topics. Quinn decided to leave the light off, stepping slowly over to her night table to place her glass on it, before moving to her friend and offering her the second glass.

Santana took it wordlessly, holding it with both of her hands like some sort of life-line, the raven-haired girl's head bowed and gaze fixated on the floor. It was possibly the smallest that she'd ever seen Santana look, outside of the night when Brittany had rejected her in junior year. "S, did you really just drive all the way from Kentucky to see little ol' me?" she asked, not sure what tone to use; sometimes Santana responded well to playfulness and jokes.

"Kentucky is almost entirely populated by people who really shouldn't exist, Q. Is it such a freaking stretch that I'd finally realize that I had to get the hell out? Besides, I did a while ago…moved in with Berry and Hummel." Santana asked, her voice's false flippancy as clear as day.

Quinn sat down on the floor with her back against the end of her bed, her head inches from Santana's dangling legs. She wasn't sure how that hadn't come up in their conversations, or hers and Rachel's even, but it didn't matter at the moment. She didn't have the convenience to be shocked or surprised. "You never belonged in Kentucky." Quinn stated, echoing a sentiment that she'd repeated to the other girl many times ever since Brittany had provided Santana with the opportunity. Santana wasn't into cheerleading, she didn't know what she wanted out of life, and Quinn knew that her friend wouldn't have found any answers in Kentucky. "That's why you left… but that's not why you're here. Not when you could just hang with Berry."

Silence filled the room for a while; Quinn was initially unsure how Santana would react, and then once she realized the girl froze, she wondered what her friend would say once out of the stupor she was stuck in. It was too early in the morning to beat around the bush, and she'd always been straight with Santana, who was the same way in return. It was something they relied on each other for, and Quinn could only hope Santana would be straight and honest with her in return.

"I've been messed up since Britt and I split, okay?" Santana started slowly, carefully pronouncing and choosing her words, but Quinn could still hear the restrained emotion her friend was barely holding back. "A while ago, I went to a party. A…friend of mine from work was there. I thought maybe…you know."

"That she could help you move on." Quinn stated, filling in the blanks that Santana couldn't find it in herself to speak.

"Yeah. I got pretty drunk…so did she, and I think we got a little active…" Santana's voice trailed off after that, and Quinn was unsure if she was expecting a TMI notice from her, or if it was something else, but she held her tongue and let Santana find what she wanted to say. It was nice to know her friend had gotten up the courage to be out at a party; ever since she'd been outed in Lima, Santana had still been iffy about showing her affection and interest in public. At least, outside of school. "And…fuck, I don't remember anything after I went down on her… but something must have happened."

The way those last few words spilled out of Santana's throat was absolutely chilling. She'd never heard Santana sound so terrified and defeated. Immediately, her body was spinning around so that she was kneeling between Santana's legs. As calmly as she could manage, given the situation, she brought a hand up to her friends chin, lifting it until both of their gazes met, the tears that had resides in Santana's eyes spilling out in response. "I'm pregnant."

Quinn wanted to say something comforting, something soothing and reassuring. Something that a friend like her should have said, but it felt like her heart was lodged in her throat from the admission. Thus, she settled for pulling Santana into a rare hug, feeling thankful that Santana immediately latched onto her, sobbing as she rested her forehead against Quinn's. "It's been like, six weeks and I don't know what to do, Q. I'm…I'm so fucking scared right now."

Wordlessly, Quinn got to her feet and took the glass Santana was still clutching from her hands, placing it on the floor before pulling her friend further up the bed. Eventually, she was able to guide Santana under the covers, the girl's frantic arms never letting Quinn get out of reach the entire time. It was only the second time she'd had to endure a breakdown, and for once she felt a surprising amount of comfort in the fact that Santana came to her. The first time, she'd been uncomfortable, mostly because she'd never been in a relationship that truly mattered when it came to her heart, so it'd been difficult handling Santana when someone like Rachel or Tina would have been much more effective choices. Quinn knew how pregnancy worked, she knew how hard it was, and she knew that Santana needed her more than ever.

Quinn slipped into the bed, letting Santana's arms pull her close. Her friend simply wrapped around her body like a snake, trying to be as close to Quinn as possible. Honestly, she welcomed it, holding Santana's head against her shoulder, her other arms rubbing small circles on her friends back. "I promise, San…" she whispered, wishing she had the words to describe her conviction, her commitment. "I promise we'll get through this."

"We?" she heard muffled against her collarbone, between sobs. Quinn answered with a gentle squeeze.

"You're staying here. We'll figure something out, I'm not letting you do this alone." Quinn noted confidently, and she knew it was true. She'd been abandoned when she got pregnant, and she wasn't about to let that happen to Santana, especially knowing the girl didn't have much of a support network to fall back on like she'd had in glee. And if helping Santana helped her get over Beth and heal a little more, then that was a bonus.

But most importantly, her friend needed her, so she'd be there. It was simple. There wasn't even a question in her mind over it, not even an internal debate. Not with Santana there in her arms, her body racked with unrelenting sobs.

After all, Quinn had long since decided to hold onto the good things in her life. Especially if sometimes, that had to be taken literally.

* * *

**A/N: Another Quinntana :) Lots of kid-focused prompts on this list, so I figured I'd go with this. I'm basically working with a narrative that Santana's left Kentucky at some point, and has moved in with Rachel and Kurt, but that Quinn had no idea. And Quinn's finishing her second year at Yale. That about covers that. I'll follow this up with a few other prompts, perhaps. :)**

**Anywho, thanks so much to everyone for your support, it's been an awesome month so far!**


	13. Invisible

_50 Words in 30 Days_:** #44 Invisible**

* * *

Santana stood outside of McKinley's front doors, the warmth of the mid-afternoon sun on her face. She knew that in forty minutes, classes would be let out, and everyone would go about their days, doing their best to put as much distance between them and the school as needed. She'd see the Cheerios hit the field for another practice, perhaps, or the football team. It wasn't as if she didn't come to school every day anymore or anything, but those details just weren't as important anymore. It was hard to really care or pay close attention when it didn't involve her, and hadn't for months.

She had different priorities now, even if they were less enjoyable and rewarding. Not that what she had scheduled didn't make her day a little brighter, but she could never risk actually being present when her targets found what she'd left them. There were always too many people crowding the halls, and she'd resigned herself to her fate only a few weeks past. Santana didn't feel like shaking anything up.

A few months ago, that would have been something she would have looked forward to; the Santana of old enjoyed messing with people and turning people's worlds upside down, in her own ways. It was only once it was done to her that she realized the error of her ways.

It had been an hour or so after school, at the supermarket, when she'd accidentally bumped into a slightly older girl. It had taken a few moments to recognize her; Santana had been a sophomore when the other girl had been a senior, but despite the age difference, she and the other cheerios had made her life hell. Santana had given her the standard HBIC glare, quipped out the girl's old nickname alongside a threat, and walked down the aisle to procure some ingredients for the pasta she was planning to make that night. She hadn't expected anything past that, but the girl had pricked her neck with something sharp, and spoke some weird ass words, before charging off.

Santana hadn't thought much of it, and knew Britt was waiting, so she couldn't afford to go all Lima Heights Adjacent on the girl. Even though the girl had drawn blood, Santana had eventually let the weird incident escape her thoughts. At least, until she woke the next morning, passed out on Britt's bed.

Her memory was hazy of the hours after discovering her ailment; heck, she could barely remember the first week since she discovered she was invisible. Santana recalled the note left on her windowsill well enough, about how it was her punishment for being so image-obsessed and focused on popularity. How the girl she'd happened on in the market thought Santana deserved to feel what it was like to truly have people look through her, to be truly invisible.

If it hadn't been so blatantly clear that she wasn't living in some fucked up dream-world, she would have denied it as some weird nightmare, but days passed into weeks, and months. Missing persons reports were sent out, her parents fought and comforted each other over her sudden absence. Had she not been too busy grieving the loss of her life as she knew it, and feeling the horrendous weight of karma on her shoulders, she might have tried to do something. Instead she'd just watched as everyone she'd cared about fell apart.

Britt was so lost in the weeks after her disappearance. She and the blonde had been linked at the hip since first grade, and Brittany didn't really seem to know how to function without her best friend around to help her. Santana knew she'd been the shield protecting Brittany, guiding her on a better path to keep her confident, happy and focused on her dancing. Eventually, Santana had decided that even though she'd lost her life, she wouldn't allow her own sins to fail Brittany as well.

It had started as a small gesture, tiny sticky notes left in the blonde's locker. Some were reminders of what she needed to do, where she needed to be, how to get to her classes. Others were simply, encouraging messages, because she knew that Britt's self esteem was fragile when she wasn't riding a high from winning a championship or snagging a lead on some dance performance. She'd kept those up for a week before she noticed two peculiar things.

Santana had been curious to see Quinn leave school early one day; her other blonde friend had been having a really hard senior year, and she knew the girl was struggling mightily with the whole Beth issue, now that Shelby was hanging around Lima all the time. Deciding to use her curse to its potential, she'd followed her former friend home, and had witnessed something of a breakdown in Quinn's room that evening. Sure, Santana had always thought Quinn had difficulty realizing that she could be free of the life her mother lived, but she'd never known that the girl had felt so hopeless. It was then that she decided to help her former Captain regain her confidence. She just wasn't quite sure how, at the time.

On her way back home, after sneaking out pretty damn well if she said so herself, she decided to stop off in the park she and Britt used to frequent. It had always helped her think, and she needed ideas on how to get her other blonde back on track. Yet, when she approached the pond, she spotted a strange, small collection of things by her and Britt's tree.

Santana had made her way up to the display curiously, not really expecting people to leave a bunch of junk around such a kickass tree. But when she got close enough, each step got a little harder to take. Waiting for her was a big white sign with a picture of her and Britt plastered on it, her name lining the top in the familiar glittery silver gel pen that her BFF loved so much. Scattered around it were some candles that had clearly seen better days, and an old bouquet of flowers. White lilacs and daisies, two of her favourite flowers; it was a nice touch, and she couldn't expect anyone to leave sunflowers in that time of year, anyway.

She wasn't sure how long she'd been standing there, just taking the memorial in, when she'd been startled out of her stupor by approaching footsteps. Santana looked around herself, seeing that she was definitely clear of the path and out of anyone's way, but when the approaching person got close enough she stepped aside anyway. She caught a glimpse of brown hair out of the corner of her eye, and turned her head to see someone she truly hadn't expected.

Rachel Berry, of all people slowly stepped up to the memorial, kneeling at the sign to replace the old bouquet with a fresh one of the same collection. Santana stood there, knowing that at the time, it had been a little over ten weeks since she'd gone missing, but by the tiny diva's expression and fresh tear tracks, it was almost as if it was a recent development. Honestly, Santana couldn't help but have been taken aback at the sight; her parents had lost hope and were entirely listless. Britt was recovering and, with her own prodding, latching onto Sam for the sort of support Santana knew her best friend needed. Quinn seemed to be struggling, but she knew she'd help on that front, and eventually her captain would be fine. No one else seemed to really care too much anymore about her having disappeared, but there was Rachel Berry, trying to compose herself in an empty park, in front of her memorial.

"May it be Your will, Lord, My God and God of my ancestors, to lead Santana, to direct her steps, and to support her in peace. Lead her in life, tranquil and serene, until she arrives at where she is going. Deliver her from every enemy, ambush and hurt that she might encounter on the way and from all afflictions that visit and trouble the world. Bless the work of her hands. Let her receive divine grace and those loving acts of kindness and mercy in Your eyes and in the eyes of all those she encounters. Listen to the voice of my appeal, for you are a God who responds to prayerful supplication. Praised are you, Lord, who responds to prayer." Rachel spoke calmly, staring intently at the picture on the board as she prayed openly.

It had been strange to hear the girl pray; Santana had been raised Catholic, so hearing a Jewish girl, one who she'd spent a lot of time tormenting, pray for her through another faith was a little touching. And maybe the whole invisibility shit had made her soft or whatever, but she might have cried, but there was no proof. She'd been dead to the world for weeks, but Berry apparently still had hope, and that stirred something inside of her. The tiny girl had always been such an optimist, always clutching tight to her dreams, never losing sight of whom and what she wanted in her life.

Santana stood silently as Rachel reluctantly departed off into the night. She knew now how to help Quinn, and that the tiny diva had done enough to earn her support, even if it wasn't needed. Santana thought back to her childhood, remembering how much Quinn used to write, and how much the blonde had enjoyed all the games where they'd play pretend. It might have been a long-shot, but she knew that Quinn had the intellect and skill to have a first class ticket out of Lima if she wanted, and she'd make sure that happened, just like she'd make sure Britt would get off to a dance academy, and Rachel would get off to New York. Because even if she couldn't have her own life, even if she couldn't have her own dreams back, she'd make sure at least some would come true.

And so there she stood, outside McKinley, notes tucked away under her cheerleader uniform for concealment. It had been her first discovery, that her uniform had been soo synonymous with how the other girl had seen her that she'd been cursed with wearing it. Sure, she could remove it if she wanted, but it was always tricky as fuck to find and put back on, because it was invisible too. Sometimes she wished she was a damn ghost, because winter had been cold as shit. For the past few weeks, she'd been leaving messages to everyone, including ivy league admission packages for Quinn, and sheet music for Berry. Sure, the packages were always tricky to get a hold of, and the sheet music was always stolen, but it was the best she could do, given the circumstances. Being a bitch had gotten her cursed, and she was smart enough to know that making a positive difference couldn't hurt, and that it was healthier than falling back into self-pity.

Santana entered the building, strolling the halls quietly as she made her way to her destinations. For the most part, it was a normal day, at least where her Britt and Quinn notes were concerned. Rachel, though, had worried her the previous night at the memorial. Every Wednesday, the diva would make her way to the pond, where the memorial was, and Santana would always ensure that she kept the girl company. Most times, Rachel would only pray, exchange the flowers, then leave, but the tiny diva had taken time to vent about how lost she was feeling, leading up to graduation, and how uncertain her future was going forward. It had taken her a few days to wrangle it out, but she'd decided to plant a special copy of the "Don't Stop Believin'" sheet music in Berry's locker, complete with a small note with the simple message 'Eyes on the prize, you can do this'. Santana had never been the best with words, so she just hoped it was adequate, as she unlocked the diva's locker and slipped her package in, quickly shutting it afterward. She knew it was silly to feel paranoid about someone seeing her; the feeling still happened on instinct, and it always sucked to realize no one would, not for the rest of her life.

But it didn't mean she couldn't be seen through her actions and support. She wouldn't let go of the last thing she had a grip on in the world around her.

* * *

It was strange, getting her friends to graduation with their dreams intact hadn't been a huge challenge at all. Britt was nearly back to her old self with the support of Sam, Quinn and the rest of glee, and she'd made it into one of the top schools in California for her craft. Quinn, after some initial notes that were equally pestering and reassuring, managed to get her life back on track, pushed past her yearning for Beth, and got into Yale. Santana had honestly never been as proud of the blonde as she'd been the day that Quinn sent in her applications; it was an absolutely incredible feeling, knowing her captain was on her way up, chasing her acting dreams again.

Rachel's year had been full of turmoil and drama as usual; the diva had endured a marriage proposal from Finn, a suspension from trying to rig the election, and a failed first try at her NYADA audition. Santana had wished she could have prevented the election mishap, but she felt that she'd handled the other two well enough. It had been surprisingly easy to get Rachel to let go of Finn, after she'd manipulated the oaf into a situation where he had been bound to fail. Santana had never felt that the boy was healthy for Rachel, and was just happy that the diva had managed to see that in the end. And Tina had been tremendously easy to get on Rachel's side, and to get her to drive Berry to the NYADA prof's workshop. Sure, while that hadn't worked, it'd given the diva some confidence at least; her sticky note to Finn, warning him of a potentially brutal death if he so much as moved his lips within a foot of Rachel during their nationals performance, had also been acknowledged. Things had gone well, all in all. All three girls were happy and on their way toward their futures.

But when graduation finished, and everyone went their separate ways, Santana had come face to face with a decision. She'd had to decide which of the girls, if any, she'd follow, seeing as they were all going separate ways. They were her life's work, her purpose, and she wasn't ready to give that up quite yet. She still thought she'd been able to help.

For a few days, she'd locked herself away, hidden in her parents' basement, trying to figure out her next step. It was only when she learned that Britt and Quinn were moving into dorms, and Rachel would be living alone, that her decision was made for her.

It had taken some work, but Santana had managed to get her hands on a prepaid credit card, which she used to buy herself two adjacent seats in the least busy train to New York. There had been a few close calls en route, when one jerk decided to sit on one of the two seats she'd reserved. Sure, she was invisible, but she'd bought those seats, and she was thankful when the attendant sent the man back to his original seat.

Santana was nothing if not perceptive and detail oriented, so it had been easy to follow Berry and her family around town to their destinations, keeping a record of which places they were looking into. She was incredibly thankful that she'd had Rachel pegged, and that the diva refused to use anything but the subway to get to their destinations, claiming she needed to understand inner-city transportation, and that it would be a better learning experience than taking cabs. Eventually, the diva had stopped by and fell in love with an apartment up in Bushwick that looked more like a hangar, given how it was one giant room with a few support posts in place. After Rachel's parents had signed the paperwork, Santana found a nice corner to take shelter in. The door didn't have a lock that she was familiar with, and she couldn't take the chance that she'd be able to slip in a week and a half later when Rachel fully moved in, so she figured that saying put was the safer bet.

It had at least let her get a handle on the surrounding area and how to pick the door's lock, by the time Rachel had moved in. She'd also done her best to tidy up, cleaning the windows, floors and walls out of boredom across a dull two day stretch.

It was then that Santana realized that she was in quite a predicament. Rachel was moved in, about to attend school, and Santana had no freaking clue how to help. Notes wouldn't work anymore, that was certain, unless she wanted the diva to think she had a creepy stalker. Not that she didn't think what she was doing wasn't a little creepy, but having someone around made Santana feel a little more human, a little more real, and sometimes she could pretend that both she and Rachel were just having a quiet study session in the living room. That the diva could, if she wanted to, look up and see her, and perhaps try to rope her into watching Funny Girl.

And yeah, sometimes, when the diva would fall asleep on the couch, she'd drape a blanket over her to keep her warm, and sometimes she'd do some minimal kitchen and living room cleaning; enough to make the place nicer, without arousing suspicion. All she'd been able to do were little things during her stay, and it hadn't seemed like enough, especially when the school year started.

Still, she endured, and did her best to leave things around the house to inspire Rachel, or to motivate her. But her willpower broke one Friday evening when the door slid open and Rachel staggered in, tears streaking down her face, small whimpers escaping her lips as she limped toward the living room and collapsed onto the couch. Over the two weeks Berry had spent at NYADA, Santana had noticed that some days, the diva would get home nursing injuries, limping, and generally upset, and as the days passed, it had only gotten worse. All that Santana knew was that Rachel's dance teacher was a colossal bitch, from what she'd seen the two times that she'd been able to sneak her way into the class. The woman was like high school Quinn and Santana combined, but with a bigger ego and an apparent actual hatred for the brunette.

As she watched the girl curl up on the couch, shaking with sobs, Santana wasn't sure whether she should stalk and flay Cassie July alive, or if she should do something to comfort Rachel. She HATED feeling useless, especially given her situation, and she knew that Rachel needed someone at the moment. The girl hadn't been making friends at NYADA, and often just spent her time by herself, practicing, but Santana was often graced with a number of private moments. She often tried her best to give the girl privacy, given the fact that she was technically invading Berry's home on a regular basis in secret, but sometimes she caught the girl staring at her phone, as if she were just waiting for someone to call her. Santana knew Kurt was in the city, but the boy hadn't made much effort to reach out to Rachel. And it wasn't right for Berry to be chasing her dreams, yet still being lonelier than ever. It just wasn't right.

So when Rachel slipped into slumber, Santana took action, covering the girl in her coziest blanket before she went about cooking the girl some food. Cooking had, in Santana's experience, been an annoying chore before her curse; afterward, it had been tremendously difficult, mostly because it usually required dexterity, and she had a difficult time with that, into being able to see her hands. Knives were especially troublesome.

Still, she managed to rework one of her favourite linguini recipes, making it vegan for the aching girl to eat. Santana knew the girl should probably be awake, and having a bath or something, but she figured Rachel would want food seeing as she'd forgotten her lunch that morning. She knew the diva worked hard, and just wanted to do what she could to make things easier on her. Keeping an eye on the three girls she'd watched over had given her a better idea of how each of them were when they weren't keeping their thoughts and emotions in check, and Rachel had been illuminating. Alone, the girl was usually calm, peaceful, and even though she followed her schedules and routines to a tee, she was much more relaxed. The tiny diva sometimes just decided to dance in the kitchen, no music playing but whatever was going on in Rachel's head. It was nice seeing her so free, and she could see NYADA was crippling that part of her day by day, and it had only been two weeks.

After readying dinner, she prepped the living room table before putting a plate down on the placemat. Quickly, she went about getting other items, like an extra pillow, a bottle of bubble-bath, and some massage oil, placing them on the end of the table as she noticed Rachel stirring, the girl sniffing audibly, her brows furrowed in confusion.

Santana grabbed her usual pen and sticky-notes from her uniform and quickly penned a note, placing it beside the plate before the girl fully woke. The message was a simple 'Please don't freak out', but it didn't seem to help at all. The diva was clearly mystified and freaked out by the full plate of food a foot away, and when she looked over to read the note, Rachel had actually recoiled fully, pressing herself back into the couch in a panic. It was exactly the dramatic reaction she'd expected, even if she'd hoped for something different.

She rolled her eyes and decided to write another note, this time ensuring that Rachel was able to see it being written. 'I'm going to speak now.' She wrote simply, because her notes didn't give her a heck of a lot of room, and her writing had to be big enough for Berry to read. Quickly, she tore off a new note, deciding to add a request. 'Please don't faint on anything but the couch.'

She watched Rachel, eyes wide with confusion and fear, nod hesitantly as she stared at the small series of notes, her lower lip trembling. Santana usually spent at least an hour a day just talking out loud in the apartment; she hadn't ever really wanted to lose her voice. Like her efforts in helping her McKinley alums, it helped her remember that she was real, that she was still living, and that she was still able to do something about her invisibility if she'd wanted to. She just hadn't expected to be communicating with anyone so quickly.

"Hey, Berry." She spoke, the sentence feeling weirdly normal, casual even, as it slipped from her lips.

She watched Rachel's face pale, her bug-eyed stare unrelenting as the girl sat still for quite a while. Eventually, though, Berry's expression shifted slowly to confusion, and then to hope, the girl's gaze darting around the room, looking for the source.

"Santana?" Rachel squeaked out, the diva's body reacting to the situation with full dramatics, her big brown eyes brimming with tears. "Can…can you speak again? Are you a ghost?"

Santana laughed at the last question, having accurately predicted the girl would have asked it. "Nah, just cursed." She stated, trying to sound as upbeat about her situation as she could; Rachel had endured a rough enough day, she wanted the focus to be more on Rachel. It just meant that she needed to take the spotlight for a moment, was all.

Rachel seemed to ponder that for a few moments, tapping her index finger against her chin, her expression like a miniature, comical version of the 'thinking man'. "Is there a difference?" the diva asked, which Santana supposed was fair enough.

"I'm invisible, not incorporeal. People can still walk into me, I can still grab things and everything." Santana stated offhandedly, earning a confusing huff from Rachel.

"Prove it." The girl challenged her, which was more than a little ridiculous, seeing as evidence was all around her.

"Rachel…I cooked you dinner, I wrote notes, I covered you with that blanket when you fell asleep. That not proof enough, short stack?" she asked, earning yet another huff, though that was was more out of annoyance than anything. Deciding to play with the slightly petulant diva, she made her way over to her prized Barbra Streisand framed and autographed photo on the shelf nearby, taking it from its safe resting place.

Immediately, Rachel bolted off the couch and into action. "Please, Santana, put it back and don't harm Barbra!"

She laughed and placed it back exactly where it had been, and turned to the diva, who wasn't looking directly at her, but certainly close enough. Slowly, Rachel returned to the couch, and Santana joined her, taking the far opposite side, Rachel looking on curiously as she noticed the imprint from where she was sitting, the cushion bending beneath her. "Where did you go?"

Again, another fair question that Santana supposed was worth answering. "I woke up one day and…I guess I panicked, because I don't really remember the first week well. And then I started pitying myself and grieving the fact that I'd just lost my life, for all I knew. By the time I had my head on straight, I'd been invisible for too long, and almost everyone was moving on. I…I started leaving notes for Britt, but then I realized Quinn could use some support, too. And then…I saw my memorial. And I heard you pray for me, and I just…it was like nothing else mattered, you know? Because I was gone…but you, Q and Britt weren't, so I tried helping, in secret."

Rachel's eyes grew wide once more as a small gasp escaped her. "You were my anonymous note donor?" she asked softly, Santana unable to refrain from laughter at the ridiculous title.

"Yeah. I…you have dreams, and I know you were having a hard time, so I tried my best to make you see what I saw, what anyone with eyes could see, what anyone with ears could hear. Your future was here." Santana added sheepishly, glad that Rachel couldn't see her because while she totally wasn't blushing, Berry might not have realized that, and there at least wasn't proof that she was blushing. Because she wasn't. Obviously.

Berry smiled in her direction, giving her this weirdly adoring look, before her expression relaxed, and the girl darted off the couch and into the kitchen. "Hey! Don't over-exert yourself, you're hurt." She called out, not at all happy with the prospect of Rachel hurting herself in her excitement for whatever she was doing.

It was only seconds later that Rachel returned with a moderately sized green jar that Santana didn't recognize. One moment, she was staring confusedly at the excited diva, and the next, Rachel was tossing goddamned flour at her, which just so happened to get in her eyes, nose and mouth, as well as all over her face and hair and upper body. She coughed and sneezed the dusty substance out of her mouth and nostrils, finding it kind of weird to see part of her body again when she looked down and saw flour resting on her chest. Above that, though, she was kind of really pissed off. "What the fucking shit, Rachel?! You trying to blind me or something?! Fuck!" she yelled, scrubbing at her eyes to no avail, the baking ingredient making her eyes feel like they were burning.

"Oh dear, I'm so, so sorry! It seemed like such a good idea at the time, and I'm becoming very aware of how erroneous my assessment was…I should have given you a warning! Please, forgive me!" Rachel pleaded, moving closer to her, resting a hesitant hand on her bicep. It felt weird being touched; it had been so long since anyone had made contact with her, and it felt goddamn magical. And just like that, the fury inside of her was doused, despite her eyes feeling as if they were on fire.

"Just…ask next time, okay? It's almost been a year since the curse began, and that's a year of no one being able to see me, a year of no one touching me, and it's fucking weird, okay?" she stated, hoping Berry would understand that she just wasn't used to this, that their communication was as new to her as it was to Rachel.

"How…how long have you been here?" Rachel asked, giving her arm a light squeeze, her eyes intently on her hand, knowing it was touching something, but not being able to see it.

Santana shrugged and guided Rachel back down onto the couch, beside her. "Since you signed the papers for it."

"But I haven't noticed any food missing." Rachel noted thoughtfully, clearing thinking back across the past week for instances of missing food.

"I eat out, mostly." Santana answered, which, by Rachel's expression, had rendered the girl aghast.

"Santana Lopez! Have you been stealing?!" the diva cried out, one hand clutching her own chest in shock, Rachel clearly appalled by her efforts at survival.

Santana allowed herself an eye roll, knowing full well Berry couldn't hassle her about it. "Don't really have any other way to get food, Berry."

Rachel didn't seem all that happy with the answer, but something happened in the girl's mind to make her blush furiously, which Santana was all too curious about. "Are…are…well, um…see…are you naked?" the diva asked shyly, looking as if her face was about to burst from all the blood flushing to her cheeks.

"I initially woke wearing my cheerios uniform, which is invisible too…I guess the bitch who cursed me didn't think there was a difference between me and the uniform…though I guess she was kind of right, in a way." Santana answered, drawing an immediate rebuking glare from the pint-sized diva.

"You're certainly more than the Cheerio uniform, Santana, don't ever speak like that about yourself again. Over the time we spent in glee, I learned enough about you to know that you were a good person, just hidden away behind the status." Rachel insisted with her index finger poking Santana's chest dramatically. "And on top of that, with winter coming up, you'll be cold, so I'll make sure you have something warm."

Santana nodded absently; the past winter had been terrible, and she hadn't expected one in New York to be any better. "Just gimme some extra blankets and I'll be fine. So long as I have that, I'm good, it just means I go outside less in the winter, is all."

"Yes…yes, you'll stay here, and you can stay warm and keep me company. And I want you to find something to work on too, for experience when the curse lifts." Rachel stated, clearly in her thinking and planning mode.

The thought of the curse ending put Santana on edge; not because she didn't want it to happen, but because she didn't think it ever would. The girl had used the word forever in her mini spiel, which seemed pretty blatant and specific when it came to the duration of it all. "I'm not…I don't think that's going to happen, Rachel."

"It will." Rachel said firmly, her eyes and voice brooking no argument. Santana let that go for the moment, deciding that the diva would eventually come to the same conclusion that she had. It wasn't as if she hadn't made peace with her new path in life. She didn't see anything wrong with helping her friends succeed in life and be happy.

"Well…I kinda liked working on my computer and, um…making music, producing, that sort of thing." She added, hoping that it would return the conversation to a better, easier subject.

Rachel clapped her hands animatedly, clearly excited. "It's settled, then! You work on that, and I'll take care of food so that you no longer have to be a deviant, and then I'll…" Rachel started, hopping off the couch, turning back toward the kitchen.

She was quick to grab the diva by the waist and gently bring her back to the couch. Rachel wasn't in the state of mind to put up a fight, it seemed; the brunette just looked curiously at her waist as she was planted back on the couch cushion she'd been sitting on. "I'm here to help YOU, Rachel, so let me help. You've had a hard day, so just rest, and decide if you want to sleep, have a bath, or have a massage, or something else."

Rachel cocked her head to the side momentarily, nodding dumbly as Santana picked up the dinner dishes and cutlery, quickly bringing them into the kitchen to be washed. "What do you want to help me with?" the diva called out from the living room.

Santana moved over to the entrance to the living room, peeking her head around the corner. Even though Rachel couldn't see her, it just felt natural. "Your dreams, I guess." She answered as happily as she could manage. "I lost my own, so I'll make sure yours come true. And you seemed like you could use a friend, too."

"You don't need to, Santana. You can still have dreams of your own." Rachel said quietly, her gaze darting over to where she was, her eyes clearly seeking out the remnants of the flour to discern where to look.

"Maybe some day down the line, but I've got a lot of life left. My dreams…they might not need for me to be visible in life, but yours do, and I'm not gonna take my time for granted. I'm happy helping. I want to see you on Broadway." She clarified, hoping to put the diva at ease.

Rachel's face-splitting smile was a wonderful sight, even if there was a note of sadness there in the girl's soft, chestnut eyes. Santana knew she'd have to fix that, she'd have to convince Rachel that she was okay taking a backseat, that she knew her limits better than Rachel did.

Because she'd spent months with her body invisible, but she knew what she was capable of, and she had someone to share that with now. Someone who she used to treat like the girl who had cursed her. Perhaps that had been the point of it all.

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**A/N: This idea just kind of happened. Felt bad doing this to Santana, but I have a feeling that she'll be okay. As with some other one-shots I've done, this will have a part two, and perhaps a part three as well.**

**Anywho, thanks so much to everyone who's been reading, you're all quite exceptional, and I wish you all a wonderful weekend!**


	14. Bets and Dares

_50 Words in 30 Days: _**#26 ****Bet**

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Santana was a little annoyed, to say the least. As usual, she was following her weekly Friday routine, attending Puck's party, but she'd been sucked into a pretty darn ruthless game of truth or dare. Not that she'd been paying a tremendous amount of attention to it, but it had put her in her current situation, sitting on Trouty-Mouth's lap.

Now, Santana was okay with Sam, she really was. He was cool enough, and kind of goofy in an endearing way if you could get past the fact that his lips were bigger than Lisa Renna's. She honestly didn't mind the guy, because he was sweet, even if he was kind of simple. Still, if she had her choice of lap-seats, he wouldn't have finished top three, but she'd been dared. And she was currently enduring the unbelievable fact that despite his guppy lips being big enough to swallow entire babies, he was still somehow missing his mouth as he tried to drink.

She had been challenged to sit on Sam's lap for fifteen minutes, and she was always adventurous with dares. It was usually all in good fun, and despite her reputation for being promiscuous, she'd earned her 'Never-Say-No' rep through Truth or Dare. There wasn't a single thing she wasn't willing to do on a dare, outside of federal offenses, at least ones that she could easily be caught and arrested for. Santana wasn't an idiot, after all. She knew that there was always that one percent of battles she couldn't pick. Thankfully, no one ever dared her to murder a family with a cleaver or anything, because it'd be kind of really weird, and she'd lose her rep for obviously taking a drink instead.

But dares were boring. Sure, they made for fun stories, and it ensured she'd be popular at parties no matter what, but there was a lack of value in them. She could only wait her turn and dare the person in response, and while sometimes that was fun, she didn't usually care too much about embarrassing people. That was Quinn's thing, and why she was sitting on Sam's lap at the moment. Santana preferred competition. She preferred to win.

Which is why her ears had perked up when, on her way off Sam's lap, the sound of Puck and Quinn arguing about her off in the corner filtered in. It was a normal sight, with the two often combining their efforts to think up creative dares in attempt to foil Santana's streak, but she'd never seen the two in such a heated debate.

"What are you two blabbering about this time? Please, tell me you've discovered some sort of creativity for once because I'm starting to get bored." Santana noted as she approached them, rolling her eyes in mock protest. She wasn't THAT bored. It was just nice to rile them up, because Puck took his party host responsibilities seriously, and Quinn hated having her creativity called into question.

Understandably, both turned to her with glares, but Santana was used to it. Quinn's glare would freeze most people in their tracks, but she knew Q would never harm a hair on her head. Not unless it was in self-defense. Santana knew that the blonde loved her like a sister, and she enjoyed exploiting that sometimes, because Quinn did the same to her.

"I was just telling Puck that you wouldn't be nice and affectionate with Berry at school if you were ever dared." Quinn stated, her glare turning back on Puck, who flinched at its potency; Santana knew Puck wasn't as hard as he pretended to be. It was cool, most people were scared shitless of Quinn. And her blonde captain was kind of on the right track. Normally, Santana wouldn't choose to come within a mile of Berry, let alone decide to touch her, but a bet was a bet. Quinn should have understood that much.

"And I bet her that you would, because Rachel's a hot, Jewish-American princess. I was just trying to see how confident she was, but she's pretty set that you wouldn't." Puck retorted, staring challengingly at Quinn in return, and Santana could only smile at the delicious opportunity before her. Not Berry, although she could begrudgingly admit that her target could have been much, much worse than Rachel. The girl had a devilish set of legs that she hid under those skirts and knee socks, so it wasn't like the diva was flawed beyond redemption; far from it, in truth. For all their teasing and insults, the girl was pretty okay looking, and she had a really nice bubble butt. But that wasn't the opportunity that Santana was excited about, despite her occasional moment of curiosity over the diva.

See, dares were one thing, but bets were dares with prizes. And Santana loved prizes, because they were free, and people got them for winning, sometimes winning them from other people. And, as most people knew, Santana loved winning. Plus, she loved proving that she was a badass, and if she could infuriate Quinn in the process by making her lose to Puck in something, all the better.

"Monday, all day, I'll treat Berry like Britt." Santana stated confidently, earning a steely look from Quinn that had Santana thinking the blonde was one step away from 'Murderous Quinn'. Mostly because Santana knew that Quinn knew that if she lost the bet, she'd lose to Puck. And that was absolutely unacceptable for her captain. Sure, Santana knew Quinn believed she had limits, but the blonde was never a hundred percent sure where they extended to.

"Pinkie holding and the odd shoulder nudge won't cut it, San. I bet you wouldn't be possessive and treat Berry like you used to treat Britt privately." Quinn added, and immediately Puck's eyebrows rose up on his forehead, sending Santana a disbelieving look of his own.

"Yeah, okay, I mean, Berry's a hot Jew, but I don't think even you'd do that." Puck stated as he shook his head, apparently thrown by Quinn upping the challenge. While it wasn't all that creative, Santana knew that Quinn liked pushing her buttons a bit. The blonde knew that for months, she and Britt had fooled around and had something of a relationship before her dancer BFF left her for Artie. She knew that Santana was hesitant about showing any sort of lady love in the school halls, for fear of outing herself and all the consequences that would come with it.

But for weeks, Santana had really done some thinking, and she'd recruited Britt's help in understanding herself, and coming to terms with her sexuality. It hadn't been easy, and she was still really nervous about it, and being out at school was still kind of scary, but not so much anymore that she'd step away from a bet. After all, if she won the bet, she'd be able to claim victory over both Quinn and Puck, AND she'd get prizes. Santana had a reputation to live up to, after all.

"If I do this, I get two 'get out of practice free' cards from you, Q, and Puck…you're getting me a bottle of 4 Copas. If I don't, you get to spread the word that I broke my rep, and you get to claim victory over me. I'll even buy you two those ridiculous '#1 Winner' helium balloons. Sound fair?" Santana asked, setting up the stakes for the bet. She really did want another bottle of tequila, and it'd be great having the ability to get Quinn to bail her out of practices for free. Santana knew how difficult it could be with Sue, so she knew Quinn's part of the bet was the hardest.

Still, Quinn stared at her intensely, an impish smile forming on her face. "Only if you bring the balloons to us in school, in front of everyone." The blonde stated, clearly enjoying the prospect of embarrassing her, and obviously believing in her victory. True, it'd be pretty horrible to deliver the damn balloons, but she wasn't so drunk that she was falling into some trap. Santana would win. Period. Never in her life had she lost a bet, and she'd make sure Quinn remembered that by the end of Monday.

Just because her target was Berry, another girl, didn't mean she was about to back off. She'd do every bet like she did her dares. She'd go hard, and she'd make Berry sweat while she was at it. Why not enjoy herself while she could? The bonus of making the diva squirm was just too enticing to pass up.

* * *

**A/N: This popped into my head, and I figured why not? It'll be a fun shift from some of the more serious one-shots I've been doing lately. My inspiration came from re-watching an old youtube video with the Mass Effect 2 character Jacob's "romance" scene. Honestly, even years after the game's been released, I'll never be able to scrub that "Heavy risk…but the priiiiize" line from my memory. :P At least SOME good came from such a disastrous bit of writing.**


	15. Cupid

_50 Words in 30 Days: _**#14 Cupid**

**A/N: This is a follow-up to "Bet"**

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Puck totally knew he wasn't the sharpest crayon in the box. Really, it wasn't his thing. His reputation as a 'sex-shark' was pretty damn accurate, and it largely meant that he didn't have much time or motivation to do all that well in school. His dad was a dead-beat, and his mom had her GED, so he didn't grow up with a hell of a lot of role models when it came to education. He acted out as a kid, and that meant teachers hadn't put as much effort in with him as the rest, so fuck them, right? Besides, he was an entrepreneur anyway, he had his own pool cleaning business. And if people thought he was some kind of brainiac, he'd be a lot less cool.

But, as a 'sex-shark', he paid a hell of a lot of attention during sex because, again, he had a reputation to protect. So one night when he'd woken up past midnight after a forgettable romp with Santana, and heard the cheerleader moaning what sounded a lot like Rachel's name, well he had to do something. Santana was his bro, of sorts, and Rachel was his Jewbro from temple, and it was, like, his responsibility as a sex-shark to get those two hot asses scissoring or shit.

And he honestly couldn't have been happier to plant the seed at his last party, knowing full well that Santana would never back down from a dare, no matter how crazy, and that Quinn would hedge her bets on the notion that Lopez had limits and would be too much of a coward. Sure, there was a moment of doubt, but once he'd joined Quinn in putting Santana up to the task, the girl had gotten a devious twinkle in her eye that had only meant he'd been successful.

So there he stood at his locker, watching Santana move through the hall like a goddamn sex-demon toward Rachel. The girl's sensuality just wasn't fair sometimes, and it totally wasn't his fault if he drooled a little; no one probably noticed, not with her sauntering like that. And it wasn't like he was some pro or anything at fixing people up; that wasn't his wheelhouse, he looked out for the Puckasaurus ninety-nine percent of the time. It's just that he really, really wanted to be someone's lezbro, and he wasn't about to pass that chance up.

And knew Berry better than most; he knew the pocket-sized diva rarely ever talked to Santana because of how the cheerleader regularly got her hot and bothered by just walking by, shooting her a snide remark, or merely being brought up in discussion. Puck had known the girl since they were kids, and he knew full well that when everyone was singing and dancing with each other in glee, that Rachel always ended up around Santana for a reason. And that she'd shown her hand to the cheerleader a bit during sectionals in sophomore year. Santana was, like, Rachel's sexy kryptonite, if kryptonite was magnetic and awesome. Or maybe she was the Luigi to Rachel's Mario, if both characters were steaming hot, lesbian plumbers that were totally unrelated. Shit, he'd play the hell out of that video-game.

Either way, he hoped Berry would take the golden opportunity he set up for her. He did, after all, like playing cupid sometimes, at least when it involved pairing up two hot ladies who could make out in the halls while he watched. His last two tries had bombed hard, though, but maybe the third time was the charm, or whatever that saying was.

Puck panicked once he realized Santana was almost a foot away from the diva and he didn't have any popcorn, or a camera to record it all with. Bummed out, he decided to just sit back and watch, wishing he had snacks. The show, after all, was about to begin.

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**A/N: I kind of felt like doing my first Puck POV here, thinking it would be a nice break from writing about the girls. It only got to "surface level Puck" as I like to say, but it was a fun romp either way for me. This one's really short, mostly because there wasn't much else to say, and I thought it fit the prompt well enough thematically to deserve its own chapter of sorts.  
**


	16. Obvious

_50 Words in 30 Days:_ **#35 Obvious**

**A/N: This is a follow-up to "Bet" and "Cupid"**

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It was obvious to Rachel that Santana was playing some cruel game or prank on her, or that someone had put the cheerleader up to what she was doing. After years of torment, indifference, and hostility, there was simply no other answer for such a break in the girl's previously consistent behavior.

When Rachel had arrived at school that morning, late due to her father needing to pick up a package before dropping her off, the halls had already been bustling. She'd made her way as quickly as she could to her locker, promptly and efficiently transferring the proper set of books to her backpack in preparation for the morning's pre-lunch classes. It ensured that she'd spend less time in the halls and vulnerable to slushies between classes, of course.

Yet, just as she had closed her locker and clicked her combination padlock shut, she felt two slim arms tangle themselves around her waist, freezing her in place. Immediately, she glanced down and saw tanned arms just as a warm body pressed against her back. Rachel knew those arms, those hands, that bracelet.

So there she stood, trying to figure out why Santana was hugging her from behind, trying to determine what her motive would be. And then, ultimately, trying to hold onto her capacity for complex thought as she felt the softest lips press against the crook of her neck, peppering brief, sensual kisses across her quickly heating skin.

It was obvious that she was turned on. Rachel was sure that if anyone looked at her, and she was sure people were, that they'd see nothing but lust in her expression. She wasn't moving, and barely breathing, but it was obvious what the other girl was doing to her, how she was reacting. How much she wanted it to continue.

Rachel had harboured a crush on Santana since eighth grade, and while she'd gone over all possible situations and their consequences in her head over the years, she didn't have the will to really care about what would happen a week from then, or a month from then, or when the proverbial egg was on her face. No, she didn't care that it was all likely a joke or some game, all Rachel knew was that she was getting what she'd wanted all along. She also knew that even if Santana was put up to it, that she'd ensure the cheerleader continue. She was Rachel Barbra Berry, and she got what she wanted out of life, and she'd make some lemonade with the lemons she was offered, especially if they were temporarily unpressed. And she'd sit back and enjoy it for as long as she could make it last.

She let herself lean backward into the girl's touch, humming contentedly, deciding to just let herself be free of the expectations surrounding her behavior. It simply wasn't the time to leave any consideration for that, not when she could behave as if what was happening was a regular, everyday occurrence. "Mmmm…good morning, Santana." She sighed, smiling as one of the cheerleader's hands slipped just slightly beneath her sweater, tracing small shapes on her sides.

"Just good, Berry?" Santana purred against her ear, her words sending a shiver down her spine as her earlobe was quickly nipped. Honestly, the things she would do to Santana. Good gravy, the things she'd let Santana do to her! She slipped one arm up and let the tips of her fingers graze their way up the side of Santana's face, moving them further to cup the back of the girl's head when she heard her breath hitch.

"It'd be better if I knew for sure you had breakfast, but I might just have to wait until lunch to ensure you're properly fed." Rachel husked out in her sultriest tone, hoping to surprise the Cheerio, perhaps catch her off guard.

"Dios mío, ¿estás loco?" Santana muttered breathlessly, her breath hitching again as Rachel subtly shifted backward and ground her butt into the Cheerio. It was a victorious feeling to know that she could affect the other girl that way, and she wasn't sure the smile on her face would ever fade, at least not for the rest of the day, or perhaps the rest of the week.

Though when Santana kissed the corner of her jaw, her prediction almost failed as her knees buckled and she had to stifle a moan from the overwhelming sensation. It had always been a tremendously sensitive spot that she now understood was a rather pleasant area to receive affection. Luckily, the cheerleader's grip held her tight, ensuring she wouldn't fall.

Santana simply chuckled and turned Rachel around in her arms before tightening her grip again, their faces a mere inch or two apart, her own curious eyes staring into the other girl's intense, amused gaze. Rachel allowed herself to take in the humour of almost collapsing from a single kiss; a thankful grin showing her appreciation seemed to grab some of the cheerleader's attention, Santana's eyes flitting down to look at her lips for a few heated moments. The warning bell sounded through the halls, and for the first time, Rachel didn't really care too much; she was happy right where she was, thank you.

However, Santana let her go, the girl's hands trailing down her body as she did so, which Rachel honestly didn't mind. If it worked to convince her that she was appropriately feminine in figure, then by all means, even if she'd only allow it once. After all, Rachel did feel that her modesty was important; it was just that she wasn't above operating with some level of seduction in order to get what she wanted. And by the look in Santana's eyes, the girl seemed curious, which was a good thing. A very, very good thing.

Deciding to take advantage of the fact that neither had stepped away from each other yet, Rachel rested a palm on Santana's chest, just low enough to be provocative, but high enough to not be too inappropriate. "Why don't you fill your pretty little head with knowledge, and… if you're a good girl… maybe you'll be rewarded at lunch." She breathed out coyly, maintaining eye contact, perhaps biting her lip a little for effect during her pauses.

She watched Santana's eyes light up with surprise and a bit of curiosity at first, before something else entirely seeped in as she mentioned a potential reward. Happy with her efforts, she stepped back returning her hand to her side and grabbing her backpack, maintaining the coy smile she'd been unable to repress.

Out of the corner of her eye, Rachel saw Santana shaking her head, once again muttering faint words in Spanish. As she slipped her backpack on, she found Santana once again in her personal space, smiling down at her, looking entirely amused. In a flash, before she could even process what was going on, Santana had leaned forward, planting a quick kiss to her nose. Gobsmacked, Rachel stood still as Santana stepped back wearing a sly smile of her own, dark predatory eyes holding the diva's gaze. "I'll be waiting in the choir room, Tink."

With that, Santana turned and walked down the hall. Well, it was more like a saunter, and Rachel couldn't help but wonder if Santana had been a succubus in another life or two. It simply wasn't fair how sexy that girl could be. As usual, she took her time staring after the cheerleader, studying her retreating form until the girl stopped a ways down the hall. Rachel lifted her gaze and saw Santana looking over her shoulder, clearly having caught her not-so-subtle ogling. Still, Santana was a rather blatant flirt at the best of times, so Rachel held her gaze and gave a little wave of her own as the cheerleader laughed and went on her way, letting Rachel continue what she'd been doing before.

And it was obvious to anyone with eyes that she was entirely unapologetic.

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**A/N: I kind of felt like making this as fun as I could in as short a span as possible. It isn't often that I get to write some heavy flirting like this, so I figured that I'd take my shot. :) I love fluff of all kinds, after all!  
**

**Not sure I'll have time to write more of this series tonight, but it's been a fun few hours :) Thanks for reading, everyone!**


	17. Nervous

_50 Words in 30 Days: _**#50 Nervous**

**A/N: This is a continuation of "Bet", "Cupid" and "Obvious"**

* * *

Santana would never in her life admit that she was nervous about lunch with Berry. It simply wasn't something she could vocalize, because who the hell got nervous over lunch? Seriously, it was a time to eat food, with people around, or whatever. Nothing special or anything, yet she sat there on the risers, her knee bobbing uncontrollably as she tried to calm herself down. It was just lunch. It was lunch with Rachel Berry, one of her all time favourite people to pick on. No reason to be nervous.

But she was, and Santana didn't know how to handle that. In fact, when she woke up that morning, she hadn't expected that her day would have progressed as it had.

Santana hadn't expected much from the diva when she approached her. She'd hoped that Berry would have seen her approaching, but it was still nice to surprise the brunette. At the time, she'd braced herself for a response; the girl's initial freeze-up was what she expected, but everything after it had been beyond anything she'd thought up. Santana had thought Berry would have gone full tilt into a rant about reciprocal affection and the importance of it during intimate conduct, or perhaps for the girl to simply run off in a blind panic, thinking she was about to be roped into some horrible prank.

Instead, Rachel had relaxed and eased into her touch, allowing Santana's hands free reign during the embrace. On top of that, the tiny, weirdly dressed diva teased the shit out of her and made innuendo and everything; it had become quite clear that Berry wasn't the prude or strictly straight girl Santana thought she was, and that changed a lot in the cheerleader's mind, leaving a lot of unanswered questions.

The primary one was more or less what the reward Rachel talked about was. Hey, she liked prizes, and rewards were like prizes, they were just won in a different way; it wasn't a competition, but more like an aptitude test. It was still a prize, and she couldn't keep that off of her mind all morning. Especially that Santana receiving it was on the condition that she was a 'good girl', which only made things more interesting, because she rarely had the excuse to be sweet.

Santana had played the role of the 'good girl' all morning long, carrying the diva's books on the way to chemistry, English and geography, running her hand up the diva's arms affectionately, and giving her parting hugs and chaste kisses on the nose or cheek. She'd even called the diva by her first name, waved to her each time they parted ways, and let the damn girl get away with smacking her ass once! It'd taken all she could to not explode on the diva, even if Berry had been right and Santana had been late to her next class. But still, no one ever had the gall to slap her ass, and she was kind of pissed about it! Well, that is, if she hadn't been so shocked and kind of intrigued at Rachel's brazen actions. Santana had been nice, and let her off with a warning wag of the finger, but by the wink she received, it was clear that Berry wasn't the least bit frightened by her. In short, she'd been a damn good girl, and she was looking forward to her reward, especially since she'd totally clinched the bet with Puck and Quinn. Santana honestly kind of hoped it lead to a macking session with the diva, because she'd always been a bit curious to see if Rachel's mouth could work some magic outside of singing. She kind of liked the idea of putting Berry's breath control to the test.

But after all of that, her other question was how Berry knew that she liked being teased, that she liked that sort of playful, flirtatious dynamic. Sure, Santana wasn't about to complain about it, because the whole morning was a hell of a lot of fun, but it still registered pretty high on her confusion chart. Santana had always been curious and a bit of a snoop, so she liked having answers. She liked knowing things, which is why she was usually really perceptive, but she'd never seen Rachel act that way around anyone before in her life, so it was just kind of mind-boggling. Santana wasn't sure if Berry was just acting and playing along with her, having assumed she was put up to teasing the diva, or if Rachel was just reacting naturally to her flirting and teasing, which no one had ever treated the singer to, from her memory at least.

Ultimately, she knew her questions would eventually be answered in full, so she'd gone home during her free period before lunch to prepare. After all, Santana went hard after her bets, and she didn't half ass shit when she was interested in something. Under normal circumstances, she would have just had one of Sue's shakes for lunch, but she figured that some homemade salads and some fresh vegan cookies would work to her favour. Santana only had time to make a dozen before returning to school, but she was pretty sure they'd be awesome either way. Yet another sacrifice, as she refused to dip into her batch before Rachel did. Fuck, was she going to win the goddamn 'good girl' prize of the day! Honestly, it was the only thing keeping her remotely focused as she sat waiting in the choir room. Santana knew that all she'd have to do was be patient as hell for Berry to show up, and everything could be cool. Because Rachel Berry wasn't anyone to be nervous about, but she was damn curious nonetheless. She was worked up, she was tempted, and even though Santana felt unnerved by it all, she was excited.

At least, until the lunch bell rang and time slowed to a crawl. And then a minute passed. And then five minutes had passed. And then when it hit the seven minute mark, Santana decided that patience could go fuck itself, she'd make up for it by finding Rachel and walking her to the choir room.

She quickly packed everything back up and left the glee club's home, paying close attention to the lightly populated halls as she made her way toward the diva's locker. It was basically a direct path from the choir room, so there was no way that the brunette would have gone another route. Her heart was beating loudly in her chest as she turned the corner into the hall were both of their lockers resided, but it felt like it had fallen from her chest when she noticed the utter lack of Rachel Berry in her sights. And as she neared the diva's locker and spotted fallen splotches of blue raspberry slushie, Santana felt like she was about to burst into flames.

The first thing she did was set a mental reminder to kick someone's ass for getting in the way of her goals. Santana knew it was either Quinn for being upset that she won the bet, a random Cheerio for being so obtuse that she didn't realize Santana was practically sheltering Berry from trouble all morning, and that fucking MEANT something, or the stupid fucking jocks.

But that only took a millisecond to do, which left her to only have a minimally delayed reaction in finding the nearest washroom, which happened to be a few yards away, small drips of slushie guiding the way.

When Santana entered the area, quietly and cautiously as to not startle the diva, she found the washroom visibly empty. It was only the light hiccupping sobs coming from one of the stalls that let her know that someone was inside. She knelt down, seeing only one familiar pair of feet, before locking the door from the inside, jamming the hinge with one of the steel rods she kept around in her bag strictly for such instances. It was just that usually, they were instances of happiness, pranks, and all sorts of fun things, not sad times.

She slowly stepped further into the room, her gaze locked onto the door to the stall that Rachel was inside. "Rachel?" Santana called out nervously, not really all that sure of what to do. She'd never been incredible at comforting people. That was Britt's area of expertise, though the blonde had more or less helped her be capable by example. Santana just hoped that would be good enough. "Are you okay?"

"Go away, you…you've made y…your point, Santana. I d…don't wish to take part in…in your victory celebr...brations." the girl sobbed out quietly, but not without that trademark firm tone that Berry used when she was upset, that kind of made everyone else feel like crap. And really, even though she hadn't been at fault at all, she still did, knowing her past had made the girl think she'd tricked her. Santana knew that even if she had ordered it, she certainly never would have celebrated. She'd never done that after giving Rachel a slushie facial.

Santana walked up to the stall door, resting her hand on it, finding it predictably locked. She sighed, knowing it'd make it that much harder, not being able to see or touch the girl. "Rachel, tell me who did this to you, and I promise we can think of a fun way to get back at them, okay?" she asked, waiting a few moments for an answer, only to be met by silence, aside from the odd stifled sob. "Why would I slushie you when I was having an awesome time this morning? When we had lunch set up?"

"Because you wanted to hurt me, and…and congratulations San…Santana . You did." Rachel bit back, the diva's sadness palpable though her voice alone. Admittedly, Santana's first instinct was selfish, that she'd probably lose out on her reward, as well as learning why Rachel had flirted back, and that fucking sucked. It really, really did, and those thoughts held her mind for the first few seconds. It was then that she allowed herself to really take responsibility, because even if she hadn't slushied Rachel that day, she had in the past a number of times, and she hadn't won the girl's trust at all. That maybe Rachel was upset because of the idea that Santana had done it, which was weird, because if she'd worked Berry up like she had all morning, and wanted to tear her down, she would have done something far more creative than a slushie.

But she understood that Rachel didn't know that. She understood that the mere thought of her considering ways to hurt the diva only meant that she had a damn long ways to go until the pint-sized singer felt fully comfortable around her. Or, until she felt like she was trustworthy enough for the girl. And Santana wasn't sure why that was suddenly important to her, but she at least wanted to get them back to neutral ground, and in the privacy of the washroom, she was willing to put herself out there. Because fuck if she ever let herself lose a bet, dare or challenge when it was definitely within her reach. And really, she didn't want Rachel to be upset. Mopey Rachel was pretty much the most depressing thing in glee's history aside from Britt and Artie's relationship.

"I…I was really looking forward to lunch. I'm sorry I wasn't here to help, I went home and made some stuff, and…" she started, stumbling over her words, unsure what to even say at that point. She knew what damage she'd caused, but she just didn't know how to fix it. A fresh sense of desperation filled her, feeling her pride slipping out of reach. "I've been a good girl. Let me help you, I know you're probably hungry."

A few seconds passed in silence before the light rustling of material filled the room, and small footsteps made their way over to the stall door, a dainty hand opening it. Rachel stood there, her hair soaking wet and her eyes red and puffy, fresh tear streaks still marking the girl's cheeks. Santana was just happy that she'd brought her duffle bag to hold their lunch stuff, because her Cheerios stuff was inside too. Slowly, she knelt down to it and pulled it open, grabbing a fresh towel and a warm, baggy sweater Santana liked wearing after practices. Rachel cautiously watched every move, both hands still firmly on the stall door as Santana stood and offered the diva her sweater. "Let me dry your hair?" She asked softly, hoping the simplicity of the request would work in her favour.

The girl nodded silently and moved out of the stall and over to the mirrors. Immediately, Santana got to work, making sure to not be too rough, knowing her towel could cause split ends and breakage that Berry definitely wouldn't have enjoyed. As she gently worked the water out of Rachel's hair, she occasionally glanced at the mirror seeing the diva's attention intently on her. Beyond anything, the girl looked confused and uncertain, which was a little heartbreaking. Hey, she may have been a bitch, but she wasn't soulless. Santana was aware that nearly every time she'd slushied Berry, the diva had bounced back instantly without shedding a tear. She understood that after a morning of kindness and playful flirting, that she may have brought the girl's defenses down unintentionally, and that was on her. She knew Rachel was a walking, talking target, and Santana knew she should have been there to show the girl she was being consistent, that she wasn't a threat.

Even if she'd been put up to the whole thing by Quinn, she'd enjoyed herself. Santana wanted to keep going, and she didn't want to sacrifice all of that just for the chance to upset Berry. Seeing the girl so sad and with her torso legitimately drenched, she couldn't find pleasure in it if she tried. And Santana really didn't care to. She cared more about Rachel getting back to showing off that exciting, playful side again; and after that, the reward, of course.

As soon as she felt confident that she'd done as much as she could, Santana leaned down and planted a soft, simple kiss on the diva's exposed shoulder, hoping that Rachel would take it much like Britt used to, back when she couldn't say what she meant, back when her actions were the only way she'd speak. It was Santana's experience that simple affection spoke all the right words to set the heart at ease, and she hoped it had helped.

The small, brief smile that flickered on the girl's face felt like a victory, and she couldn't help but pull Berry in for another hug, finding themselves in the same position they'd been in earlier that morning. Still, it felt different there in the washroom, without an audience, with the air not charged with sexual tension. "We still have fifteen minutes left for lunch. To the choir room, or do you want to stay here?" she asked, resting her head on top of the diva's shoulder. Britt used to do that, and it'd always made her feel a little more connected. She hoped Rachel felt the same way.

"I'd prefer to get out of here." Rachel mumbled quietly, leaning ever so slightly into the embrace. Santana knew that flirty behavior just wasn't in the cards until the diva's mood rebounded, so she merely gave the girl another squeeze before unlocking the door, quickly leading Berry out of the washroom by the hand. Her face was stony and serious, challenging anyone to try anything, because she kind of really wanted to let out her anger on a willing party. Still, Santana was happy enough when they reached and entered the choir room doors without incident.

Rachel promptly made her way over to her usual seat in the front, her head bowed slightly, with dainty, obviously feminine hands resting in her lap. Santana followed suit, sitting on the floor in front of the weary girl, so that she could look up into her face more easily. Knowing they didn't have a lot of time to do much of anything, Santana laid out both lunches she'd prepared, as well as a small opaque container that she placed off to the side. Rachel watched on curiously, and looked at the lunch Santana offered with suspicion.

"It's just a kale salad…you know, with avocado, cucumber, red pepper, radish, celery, pomegranate, that sort of stuff. I didn't have much time, so it's not fancy, but it's vegan." She explained, and after another suspicious glance at the container, Rachel took it and a fork from Santana's hands, offering her a small smile yet again. That time, though, it lasted. Which was kind of awesome.

They ate in silence, though Rachel was clearly hungry as she finished her salad quickly, her eyes looking questioningly at the other container Santana had laid out. "What's in there?" Berry asked quietly, her lips forming into this tiny, curious pout. Santana had always noticed that Rachel's facial expressions tended to be really animated, but it was the first time she'd ever really instinctively thought of the girl as cute. And she wasn't entirely sure that it felt at all unfitting, or that it was wrong, because at that moment, with the diva clearly antsy over a potential surprise, she really did look cute.

"I made some cookies…ginger snaps. I think you made some for glee last March or something, so I figured you'd like them." Santana clarified, and Rachel seemed entirely taken aback for a moment, before a wide, baffled smile spread across her face.

"You did all this for me?" Rachel asked, sounding uncertain, though hope was glimmering in the girl's soft, brown eyes. Honestly, Santana wished she had a temporary third arm strictly for the purpose of patting herself on the back, because she'd salvaged the lunch break, and done a damn fine job.

She popped open the cookie container and lifted up a ginger snap, proud of her baking efforts. "You said that if I filled my pretty head with knowledge…" she started, slowly sliding toward Rachel, only leaving a few inches between them. "And if I was a good girl…" she continued, bringing the cookie up within a millimeter of the girl's lips, her other hand taking to gently stroking up and down the diva's left thigh. "That I might be rewarded." She finished, moving to a kneeling position between Rachel's legs, the girl spreading them slightly to allow her room. Not for a moment did Santana lose eye contact with the girl, relishing when Rachel leaned forward and took a bite; the diva clearly savoured the taste, chewing slowly and letting out a contented moan.

Santana intently watched Rachel finish off the cookie, bite by agonizing bite. She was certain that Rachel hadn't heard the bell ring, but she supposed the brunette likely was used to ignoring it, seeing as she had her free period after lunch. Santana honestly didn't care about attending Spanish, anyway. It was a waste of her time, and she had much more important matters to attend to.

"Come up here." Rachel stated softly, and Santana was up in an instant, her body on auto-pilot as she sat on the girl's lap, her legs supporting as much weight as she could comfortably bear in order to not make the diva uncomfortable. Santana watched Berry bring a hand up, much like she had earlier that morning, the girl's digits grazing her cheek with a tenderness she'd honestly never been shown before. Santana really hoped that she wasn't about to be let down gently. Rachel seemed the type to take that road when it came to rejection. "You've been…such a good girl, Santana." The diva breathed out, her brown eyes fluttering closed midway through the sentence.

And just like that, her worries were dashed, and Santana felt like she was on top of the world. Winning was fucking amazing, and she'd been awesome all day. Fuck the haters, she knew that if Quinn saw her right there, she'd have accused her of going soft, but Santana knew the way things worked. Competitions and prizes for shit like trophies, medals, booze and everything were done with fierce determination and relentless willpower, all wrapped up in a no-holds-barred mentality. That was how to win material prizes, by getting the best things, the most things. But with people, it all came down to affection and attention, and Santana wasn't a pushover in that either. It was why she'd gotten breast implants, to boost the amount of time people paid attention to her, and to increase the kinds of attention paid to her.

Much like that, she took being a 'good girl' seriously, because she figured that being awesome would at least get her a sweet macking session. It'd been a common part of her and Britt's relationship a few months back, and she was very familiar with the way that game was played, and that those sorts of situations were only victories if both had a freaking awesome time of it. It was the one thing she had that put herself ahead of Puck, in her mind. Puck knew how to have sex, but he didn't know how to lead into it, or how to care for anyone afterward, and even though she felt comfortable as hell saying she was a star between the sheets, her specialty in general was making people feel good. And at that moment, with Rachel's hair shiny and damp, the diva looking like some sort of tiny-yet-mature sex kitten, that was all she wanted to do. She just needed for Rachel to give her consent.

Santana wrapped her arms around Rachel's neck, letting one work a simple massage while the other slipped into the girl's luscious, damp hair. She let her smile slip into a shy one as a sober thought formed in her mind, knowing that she'd never be able to be as open and free with the girl as she'd been earlier without taking a certain step. After singing and dancing, Santana was well aware that Berry enjoyed a little bit of acting. "Have I made the grade, Miss Berry?" she asked, peering up at the diva through her eyelashes, trying her best to look shy an innocent, playing the hopeful 'good girl' role she'd halfway slipped into throughout the morning.

The blush that filled Rachel's cheeks was glorious, but not nearly as much as the excited flash of recognition in the girl's eyes. "You have been a rather impressive young lady, Miss Lopez." Rachel spoke, the strange, fresh maturity in her voice startling Santana a little. She'd known Berry could act, and that she had a wide vocal range for singing, but hadn't expected for the girl's voice to take on a different tone and shape. It was honestly really enticing, and only had her more worked up as she felt Rachel's hands caress the outside of her thighs. Fuck if Quinn wasn't a blind idiot, because those small, deft hands teased her flesh in all the right ways. Usually, she didn't really care for the cheer uniform, but in that moment, she was thankful for it. "But tell me…do you think you're deserving of reward over the others?"

Santana gulped at the intensity of Rachel's stare and easily slipped further into her role of the nervous girl, eager to please. "I…I hope I am, Miss Berry." She stammered out, lightly dragging her massaging hand down Rachel's arm, hesitantly interweaving her fingers with the diva's own. She squeezed, while Rachel's hand flinched slightly, an intriguingly astute reaction. "I've worked terribly hard in my studies, securing a 4.0 GPA in hopes you'd be proud of me." She continued, adding a shy smile as one of Rachel's hands lifted her chin and forced her gaze to return to Rachel's eyes, now appearing a tiny bit softer despite her expression being firm and pointed. "I think only of you between classes, doing my best to ensure your comfort and safety, Miss Berry. I'm so sorry for earlier, I was…I just…" she let her words trail off, getting further into the act. Role-play had been a secret love of hers, and while Britt had always been a willing companion, the girl's range was limited, as was her commitment to the role. In Rachel, she trusted that the diva would follow through and just take in the experience and what she wanted to convey. It wasn't as if all of Santana's role-playing had to be sexual, it's just that she couldn't always express herself normally like other people, and it was easier for her through a filter. It was a lot easier to apologize playing a character than being 'herself'; the persona she'd created for her school life would never be caught apologizing. She figured both were acting anyway, it wouldn't hurt or anything.

"Just what, sweetness?" Rachel asked with a bit of softness lingering in her tone; the sheer aching worry in the girl's voice was amazing, especially with how utterly veiled it was by a fake, vague expression of concern with a flash of regret after using the pet name. Had she not been perceptive, Santana likely would have just taken the tone as Berry being uninterested in her welfare, which wouldn't have set the right tone. It was sort of stunning that Rachel knew to be so reluctantly detached so quickly.

"I just wanted…I wanted to be y…your good girl." She answered in a pained whisper, willing her eyes to water for effect, her voice choking up slightly in response. "A…and I really t…tried. I didn't think th…they'd hurt you."

"Shhh…" Rachel forced out quietly, removing Santana's other hand from her hair and placing it in the cheerleader's lap, he diva's hands holding both of theirs in place. "Good girls know when to control themselves, Miss Lopez." Rachel stated, a flicker of a frown against her lips, the diva's eyebrows turning up ever so slightly from worry. Santana watched the other girl's emotions battling underneath a thin veneer of impassivity.

Santana let out a sob; it wasn't a rare occurrence, she cried all the time when she was drunk, but it was a lot harder to do sober unless she was really into something. Thankfully, Rachel was playing along admirably, coaxing her into reacting, into spiraling out. "I try so hard, Miss Berry…I want to be good for you…" she spoke quietly, her lower lip trembling. Santana paused for a moment to see how Rachel would react, if she'd want to stretch it out for a bit longer. Seeing that Rachel was enjoying it, she decided to keep it going. "But it's so hard." Santana added with a slow shake of her head, sounding entirely defeated as she lowered her gaze again, wishing she'd let her hair out of her pony so that it could curtain her face. But good girls are supposed to be neat, proper, and well kept, so she supposed it was fitting.

"Miss Lopez, good girls are polite enough to make eye contact when appropriate." Rachel chided her, so she stifled a sob, letting her body shake forward ever so slightly. She wasn't that emotional quite yet, and she wasn't certain she wanted to be or that it was necessary, but Santana knew she could fake it well if she needed to. And second by second, that need was reduced by entirely real emotions welling up to the surface, long hidden away. "Why is it so hard, sweetness?"

Santana lifted her gaze, sending Rachel a pained look that actually seemed to startle the diva, whose eyes went wide with concern, starting to brim with emotion. "Because good girls don't feel like I do. Good girls don't think like I do." She forced out, letting all the worry from earlier in the lunch room and the washroom out of her system. Santana knew it wasn't necessarily the healthiest outlet for her stress and pent-up emotion, but it worked, and it was always cathartic in the end. It was kind of nice to let out the last scraps of her gay panic into their act, too.

She felt Rachel's hands start to shake, loosening their grip on her own ever so slightly. She witnessed Rachel swallow back her emotions, letting her final set of walls up as she worked to compose herself. "And…what do you mean by that, Miss Lopez?"

Santana took advantage of Rachel's shaking hands and pried one free, waiting a comfortable second or two to see if Berry would stop her before she placed a hand on the diva's cheek. "Good girls aren't supposed to desire you, Miss Berry. I just…I simply can't help myself." Santana cried out quietly, letting herself feel what anguish she could muster as she bit back her tears. "Perhaps I'm too wretched." She choked out, collapsing forward in the diva's lap, both of her hands shooting up to cover her face as she wept. Sure, she knew it was a bit odd, but she knew Rachel had so rarely ever been someone that others felt the need to impress and be worthy of, and even if it was just role-play, she'd wanted that for the diva. She wanted Berry to feel wanted for once, hoping that the girl would understand that it was her offering of trust, of affection. That it was her hoping for some shred of forgiveness. An olive branch of sorts, but with a bunch more emotion, and touchy-feely stuff of course. The good stuff.

She waited as Rachel went from pulling her into a frantic hug, her hands uncertain; the brunette was hesitant initially, and promptly changed her mind, moving to put a little distance in between them. This just had Santana reacting with even more anguish. She freed up one hand to tremble against the diva's shoulder, trying for some sort of contact. "Sweetness…" she heard whispered soothingly, Rachel's hands forcing Santana to clear her face fully so they could meet each other's gaze. "You are not fit to be one of the good girls you seek to emulate." Rachel spoke with quiet confidence, her gaze absolutely intense with determination and fire. Despite Santana's thankfulness for Berry's large vocabulary, the words hurt. She didn't understand if Berry was twisting the game on her, and it hurt to think she wasn't understanding what Santana had been trying to build the whole time, what she was trying to say through it all. She was trying so hard. She tried so, so hard.

"Miss…" Santana started, but a small shake of the diva's head still her words in her throat, letting them decay over the following silent seconds.

"You, my sweetness, will never be one of the good girls because you're _my_ good girl. My precious, _wonderful_ girl." Rachel spoke so sweetly and reverently that Santana couldn't help but let herself just believe. Even though it was just a role-play, she'd never heard such words spoken to her, especially not with such conviction. Santana didn't care about the tears streaming down her face or the magnificently wide smile she was sporting, or how hard her heart was beating, as if it was so full it could explode. The only thing she could focus on was that Rachel was looking at her with such adoration that she couldn't help but lean forward and tenderly press their lips together, smiling into the kiss as the diva pulled her closer, her arms wrapped around Santana's body possessively. It was almost as wonderful a feeling as when Rachel kissed back.

Santana had entertained some stray thoughts on Rachel's kissing prowess, assuming that the girl's breath control, skilled tongue and nicely-sized soft lips would make for a pretty nice time, but she'd had no idea. The last bit of nerves within her shattered as Rachel responded fervently and passionately, Santana feeling overwhelmed as the pendulum swung, Berry absolutely dominating her through the kiss. She supposed it fit character, but when their lips had touched, it had been the absolute last thing on her mind. Still, she was happy to oblige and be ravished, so long as she was able to return the favour in other ways afterward.

Her hands teased their way down Rachel's back, clutching her ass hard as soon as she'd gotten them in position, earning a surprised squeak from the diva, who ludicrously just rolled her hips back into her hands. Santana seriously had no idea what else Rachel Berry had hid away about herself from society, honestly, but she was really, really happy to be learning.

So perhaps she wasn't as surprised as she would have otherwise been when Rachel swiftly stood from the chair, Santana's legs instinctively wrapping around the diva's waist in what must have looked kind of hilarious, given their heights, before Berry laid them both onto the floor, Santana's back making contact first. However, while she certainly enjoyed the position, Rachel had interrupted their lips going at it, and she was going to make sure that Berry wouldn't be earning any more air miles unless she had the girl flying high on an orgasm or something. It didn't seem likely, given Rachel was still a virgin, but she decided she wouldn't rule out the possibility until Rachel did. And so, she kept her legs where they were, locking the diva in place on top of her.

Rachel didn't seem to mind one bit, breathlessly crashing their lips together again, Berry's hands embedding themselves in her hair, undoing her ponytail and letting her hair splay out freely. It only made Santana feel more vulnerable, losing part of her uniform, of her power, especially when Rachel pulled back for air. She used the opportunity to graze her hands up and down the back of Rachel's thighs, coming dangerously close to what Puck often called the 'Red Zone'. Once again, their eyes met, and Santana had a really difficult holding back the first thing that came to her mind, so she let the second slip out. "You're incredible." She breathed out, panting hard as her lungs fought to gather oxygen for another round. She could taste the remnants of Rachel's cherry lip gloss on her own, and it only made her want to kiss the girl until their lips were raw. However, the diva stilled her wishes with a melodic, carefree laugh, the singer smiling widely as she looked adoringly at her once again. It was then that Santana just couldn't help herself. "Did you mean what you said?"

Her words slowed Rachel's laugh until the diva looked down on her with a soft smile curling at her lips. "Are we still role-playing?" Rachel asked quietly, before letting out a giggle. "I suppose I broke character there, anyway."

"It's alright, I broke too." She replied, hoping to reassure the girl from the fresh flash of uncertainty spreading across her face.

That only earned her a puzzled look from the diva. "You did? But…when?" Rachel asked, curious, and appearing more than a little concerned. "Your words…they all seemed proper."

"I broke through my actions, not my words, I guess. When you said I wouldn't be like the rest…it was too much." She whispered, turning her head to the side so she wouldn't have to look at the diva, who was probably just looking on with full-on confusion. "I tried so hard, Rachel."

After a brief moment, she felt the full weight of Rachel's body on top of her own again, the diva's head resting in the crook of her neck. "You have nothing to apologize for, Santana. I know that now. You're forgiven." Rachel answered, as if she was some weird mind-reader or something. Which, actually, wasn't all that weird, Santana supposed, seeing as she had her own psychic Mexican third eye. "And to answer your question, at the risk of sounding utterly foolish and maybe desperately and hopefully pathetic…yes, I did."

Santana let herself breathe in that very confusing moment, processing her thoughts. Honestly, she'd spoken her mind, asking Berry that question because she'd felt something in that moment, on the diva's lap. It wasn't like anything else she'd felt before, and she knew that either Berry was an amazing actress, or some of her reactions were sincere, so she'd let the question spill out. She'd needed clarification, because it had all been too confusing and new for her, and now that she had an answer, a confirmation, she wasn't sure how to feel.

Apparently, inexplicably, Rachel felt something for her. Deciding to put aside her history, and focus just on the day at hand, it made the morning's flirty embrace make a lot more sense. It made every glance, every touch, every playful remark make sense, especially with how the diva had seemed to get more confident as time passed, at least until the washroom encounter. And that made more sense, because if she'd spent the whole morning flirting back and forth with a girl that had a crush on her, only to be rejected in a painful way, it made sense to be upset. Hell, she'd have been upset if it had happened to her. Britt rejecting her without a slushie had been hard enough, so it made her empathize with Rachel over that much. And the role-play was done so exquisitely, Rachel guiding the right responses out of her, helping her let go and release her guilt, her sorrow, and so much else. Every moment of that exchange had been guided with the care of a girl who hadn't ever done that sort of thing with her before, yet knew perfectly well how to react in each instance. It was baffling. It was amazing, and she'd loved every second of it, despite how emotionally charged it had been. Perhaps because of it.

And then the kiss. Santana had kissed a great many people, but she'd never been kissed with such unrelenting passion. Where she had skill and technique, Berry had some weird emotional thing. She'd never felt so many slight mood shifts as she had with Rachel where every motion of her lips, every tilt of her head, every flick of her tongue all taught her exactly what the diva had been feeling at the moment. And it had been like experiencing the Sistine chapel in all its glory, having only ever witnessed the scrawling work of seven year olds before. It had been entirely new and ridiculous, and Santana only wanted more. Not just for her, but for Rachel too. Because as much as she wanted Berry's lips on her own, she wanted hers on Rachel; she wanted to explore the girl and truly understand the diva. Santana was a curious person, after all. And while her reward had been more than she had hoped for, it didn't hurt to set her sights on someone much more valuable than a reward or prize.

"And I might just sound like some sappy marshmallow or something but…look, this started as a bet that I wouldn't touch you, okay? But that all changed the moment you leaned back into me, alright? Because that made me curious, and I need to know things. It's how I am. So I flirted, and you flirted back, and that just got me kind of excited, because almost no one keeps up in flirting with me, and you really got me off balance, and I was really looking forward to lunch, not just because of the reward, but because you were suddenly really interesting. And when I saw you in the washroom breaking down because you thought…you thought I had made someone hurt you…I really wanted to keep flirting with you, but I needed to apologize more and you were so awesome. No one's ever made me feel like…that." She rambled, taking a deep breath, because apparently Berry's motor-mouth and paragraph-speech disease were contagious. "Especially when you looked at me like that and said those words, so that's why I asked you. Because I kind of really wouldn't mind being your girl and stuff, I think." She finished quietly, her words trailing off at the end as her nerves took over her mind once again, her hands wringing with each other anxiously. Santana had never been in that sort of situation before, and she didn't know how to react or even just be normal, so she fiddled with her hands and closed her eyes, trying to just think about what to do, but nothing was coming up. It was as if she'd had word vomit, and it threw out her ability to think.

"Santana…" she heard Rachel speak reverently, the diva's light hand turned her head by her chin, forcing her gaze open once more. She'd sort of expected Berry to pull away so that she wouldn't just see hair, but apparently that wasn't in the cards. After all she said, Santana kind of wanted to see the girl's eyes to gauge how she felt, but it was denied her. So she sulked a little. "I believe my exact words were that you are my good girl. My precious, wonderful girl." The diva continued, and Santana wasn't sure how Rachel could even think to describe her like that, but she really wanted to believe she could be that to someone. She'd tried with Britt, but it didn't end up working out. She hadn't been good enough, but Rachel was good. Rachel was also contagious in nearly everything she was, and maybe that was what Santana needed. Maybe she just needed someone to help bring herself out, because Rachel's words didn't just make her feel like a better person. They made her remember who she was underneath it all, something Santana often forgot while at school, as well as when Quinn and Britt couldn't make time for her.

And maybe that was a reason to not be nervous about Rachel Berry. Maybe the girl could help her win back the only prize she'd ever thrown away. Herself.

Santana wasn't quite sure what she could give in return that could possibly be of equal value, but she let Rachel worry about that. She'd just give her all until she figured out if it was a good idea or a bad idea, but she'd always been impulsive. And Rachel was making her feel twenty kinds of good, so she'd take the offer. She'd be awesome enough for them both.

And in a moment of peace surrounding it all, she realized she didn't need any bets or dares shackling her to that goal. And fuck, was that a freeing feeling.

"So Rachel, there's still twenty minutes left in your free period. You gonna ogle my lips the whole time, or are you gonna come and get up on this and get you some sugar?" she asked, her trademark smirk falling into place as she waited for her girl's response.

She didn't have to wait long. Rachel was nothing if not punctual.

* * *

**A/N: Wow. This kind of just exploded on me. To give you an idea of how much, I had up until "…Santana felt unnerved by it all, she was excited." outlined. The rest was just stream of consciousness the rest of the way, and I really, desperately hope I did it justice. I really wanted for Santana to be in this position of semi-understanding the whole time, searching for answers, and battling what she both received, and what she knew from before. I just hope that the confusion that I wanted the character to feel didn't slip too far into the writing style to muddy things up too much. I needed her thoughts to be scrambled, to continue past thoughts paragraphs later in a different situation as she put the pieces together. I hope it worked for you all. I'm not sure I'm completely satisfied, but I don't have it in me to re-write such a long streaming work like this. Not now, with me out of the mindset that crafted all of this.**

**Anywho, thanks so much for reading and for the reviews saying you've enjoyed this little arc. It's been a productive, enjoyable evening, and it's been wonderful hearing from you all. :)**


	18. Baby

_50 Words in 30 Days:_ **#18 Baby  
A/N: This is a follow-up of "Pregnant"**

* * *

Quinn, in a way, felt rooted to the chair she'd been sitting in for the past few minutes, soaking up the scene in front of her. Hospitals had never been her favourite places by any means, especially given her history there. Lima General had always been the place where she had to go to fix something wrong with her; she'd been through countless colds and flu viruses, dozens of physical injuries, and the ordeal of pregnancy followed by giving up the child she gave birth to. The child she'd thought she hadn't needed as badly as she had, the child she couldn't protect and care for at her young age. So hospitals just weren't Quinn's thing, generally, but it felt different that time.

Because it wasn't her that was lying on that hospital bed, it was Santana and the tiny baby girl her friend was cradling against her chest; her former co-captain gazing down in awe at the child with an absolutely brilliant smile. Quinn wasn't sure if Santana had ever glowed with such honest beauty before, so she was at work memorizing every second, putting it to memory so that she'd never forget._ Did I look like that when I gave birth too? Was that how I looked when I held Beth?_

"What should we name her?" Santana's strained voice broke Quinn from her reverie, and she couldn't help but frown in worry a little bit. Santana had been so incredibly loud and vulgar, and her labour hadn't been a quick one; Quinn was amazed that her friend could even speak, and really just wanted Santana to rest.

But then the girl's question filtered into her mind, and her eyebrows shot up her forehead, surprised at the word 'we'. Because honestly, she felt that she had no business being part of any kind of decision that big. That was something parents did. "It's your choice, San, not mine."

Santana 's smile dropped into a nervous grin that was, as seconds passed, looking more like a grimace. "Q, you were there for me through everything…without you, I would have been lost. You at least deserve to help name her..." Her friend spoke, Santana's voice trailing off at the end.

In all honesty, she was pretty sure that most of her help was her pushing her baggage onto Santana. Otherwise, why would a girl as young and promising as her friend decide to keep her child? Quinn wasn't sure it'd be easy dealing with that guilt; she'd already struggled mightily with it across the past months when Santana hadn't been around. Not that she was an alcoholic by any stretch, but she knew where her vice was leading her, and she didn't know if she was strong enough to stop it.

On top of that, she'd struggled with Santana through the pregnancy, often having a hell of a time handling her friend's mood swings, cravings and breakdowns. Quinn wanted to think she hadn't been that bad, and knew that their occasional blowouts on each other hadn't harmed their friendship too much, but she'd been troublesome at the very least. She really had tried her best to help. It's just that it all brought back memories of Beth and her own pregnancy, and she'd had her own outbursts and emotional episodes that Santana had been forced to endure. Sure, most of the time, they were good and happy, and Quinn had been helpful, but there had been times where both were miserable and angry. Though she supposed that, given their history, it wasn't much of a surprise. They butted heads in cheerleading, it made sense that it would carry over to something else too.

And when Santana had given birth, she'd felt an initial pang of loss, her mind initially flooding with her memory with Beth, but Quinn hadn't felt as jealous as she thought she'd be. It was more that she was jealous that her friend was able to live in that same moment that Quinn had once felt so utterly happy in. Outside of an abstract link, it had nothing to do with Santana having a child of her own, and that had confused her, and was why she'd been sitting in the chair, watching. She'd wanted to understand why she felt like she had, and while it was still confusing, she was pretty sure she wouldn't have any answers that night. Not with how proud she was of Santana, not with how thrilled she was that the newborn was healthy. Not with how amazing Santana looked holding her, and not with how she kind of wanted to hold the baby too. Thinking could happen at a later date, she decided.

Realizing she hadn't given Santana any sort of response to her words, she shrugged apologetically. Honestly, she really didn't feel like she'd earned a big enough place in Santana's life to deserve having a hand in the naming process. She'd just been as good of a friend for the girl as she could.

"Well, if you're not going to help me, then I'll have to do the dirty work myself." Santana noted with a mischievous smirk that had Quinn cocking her eyebrow questioningly, wanting to know what her friend had up her proverbial sleeve. "Unless you can think of something better, I've decided that Amelia Lucy Lopez has a nice ring to it."

Immediately, Quinn's mind went back into overdrive, her mouth gaping as she sat there, stunned. Her mouth was shooting out syllables and half formed words linked to the storm of swirling thoughts in her mind, and she honestly couldn't keep herself calm. "That…I don…uh, well, it's….um, I just, I know…but well…I mean…" she stammered out, before taking a moment to regain some semblance of composure before she made Santana break a rib with all the laughing her friend was doing. "There's a lot of Ls in there."

Her statement seemed to calm Santana enough to get her friend nodding and smiling again, the girl wiping tears of laughter from her eyes. "I wouldn't have it any other way, Q." Santana spoke, her voice hoarse still, but there was a touch of tenderness in it that had Quinn's heart swelling. Sure, she loved how ridiculous and combative her friend could be most of the time, but she really did enjoy when the girl wore her heart out on her sleeve like that. It was rare and she appreciated being privy to those moments.

"Are you sure?" she asked dumbly, which seriously was a dumb, idiotic question. Of course Santana was sure, she knew. Quinn just couldn't wrap her mind around the fact that her friend wanted to use her given name on her newborn.

"I have room in my life for another Lucy, even if there's only one Lucy Q for me." Santana noted quietly, returning her gaze to the small child, who seemed all tuckered out from her big adventure out into the world.

Quinn blushed, and finally she felt capable of motion, her body lifting itself from the chair and slowly making the journey to Santana's bedside. Right then, she really, really kind of wanted to hug Santana, because she was completely honoured by it all, but as Quinn neared, her priorities shifted a little. Her eyes latched onto the tiny, bundled up newborn, and she couldn't suppress her smile. Amelia was perfect. "Hi Amelia…I'm your aunt Quinn, and I'm going to love you a whole bunch… especially when your mom's too much of a grump or too cranky to watch cartoons with you." She spoke, adding the last bit in jest, but it'd probably be just as true as the rest of what she'd said. No matter what, Quinn knew she'd be there for them both, through thick and thin. Sure, she was getting close to finishing her third year at Yale, and she planned on going to grad school, having internships, basically taking all the opportunities she could get. She'd be busy. Still, though, she knew in her heart that she'd always make time to fit two of her favourite girls into her life.

And Quinn knew that when she couldn't be there, Rachel would. Honestly, Santana loved to rag on the girl and tease her relentlessly, but she knew that her friend had warmed to the diva. Rightfully so; Rachel had been tremendously committed throughout the pregnancy, even with her overfull schedule. The only reason the diva wasn't present in the room was because Santana had threatened the singer with a visitation ban if she didn't take that Broadway stage by storm. Rachel had just recently gotten the role of Fanny Brice, and Santana had refused to let Berry give a Friday night performance to her understudy, so the diva had relented reluctantly. However, with it being so late, Quinn knew Rachel was well on her way to the hospital in New Haven. She just knew it.

"Quinn." She heard called out, her gaze quickly shifting from Amelia to Santana, whose face was alight with an expression that Quinn could best describe, or at least she hoped she was accurate in her description, as adoring. The past few months had been an absolute trial, but she'd gone through it together, and no matter how close they'd felt in the past, things were different now, and she was loving every second of it.

"What?" she asked, a smile blossoming on her face as she watched Santana's expression shifting slightly, clear that her friend had a lot on her mind. It was one of her favourite things about Santana, how she had these tells that let her know how her friend was feeling, and it was clear the mother had something to say that she was agonizing over.

And for a few seconds of silence, Santana just stared back at her, clearly struggling with something. Her eyes, though, were always the girl's biggest tell, and even though Santana just blushed and shook her head in the end, Quinn had seen something in her eyes that she wanted to see again. Deciding not to press, she just leaned over and kissed her friend on her temple, knowing that there was time for talking later. "I'm so proud of you, San." She whispered, leaving it at that, allowing herself to believe that what she'd seen was real. That the pure love that Santana's eyes gave her a glimpse of wasn't a figment of her imagination. She just hoped that when Santana looked at her, that she recognized it in her own hazel orbs. But she wasn't about to pressure her, not in such an emotional situation, not after just recently giving birth.

Hell, she wasn't about to pressure herself; the idea of being attracted to someone who wasn't a man was still entirely too fresh for her to fully accept, but after all they'd been through together, words and acceptance would happen on their own time. Right then, in that moment, all she wanted to do was be around the two best girls in New Haven.

* * *

**A/N: Woke up this morning and immediately was feeling this, I wanted to do some Quinntana, and I wasn't quite in the mood to do the other arc, not on an empty stomach. So an hour later and poof! It's done :D Hope you liked it!**


	19. The Frozen Aisle

_50 Words in 30 Days:_ **#36 Music**

* * *

Rachel Berry was a tad grumpy. Earlier in the day she'd succumbed to a painful headache, falling asleep so early that her sleep schedule would likely be fairly difficult to fix before Monday rolled around. On top of that, her sleeping meant she'd missed the musicals marathon on IFC that evening, which she'd been looking forward to all week long. On top of that, her parents had just left on a cruise for the week, and had forgotten to buy groceries before they'd left, so she was without food. And she was hungry.

So she was pretty grumpy, but not so much that she felt resigned to moping around the house for hours. No, Rachel knew of a single grocery store that was open until midnight. Checking her phone, she noticed it was just five past eleven, giving her plenty of time to shop if she wanted food.

The drive wasn't far, Lima being a small town. It had already been two months since the local Foodland extended their hours to midnight, but Rachel had never gone in so late before. Normally she'd drop in during the afternoon on the weekend, and early Wednesday evening, but that was it. When she walked through the store doors, the place looked generally empty; there was a single cashier light on, an elderly couple near the one of the aisles likely rife with canned food, and one clearly drug-addled teenager standing in awe of the kiwis in front of him. Above all else, though, the cheesy eighties rock playing over the PA system was what caught Rachel's attention.

She wasn't exactly a connoisseur of that era's music, but she'd had a poorly made radio growing up that only ever really seemed to be able to find the frequency for the local 80s pop station, and a Christian talk radio station. Needless to say, she went with the former, and while she wasn't a regular listener, it was always at least somewhat entertaining.

So she hummed along to the music as she moved through the produce section, gathering enough groceries to stock her fridge and fill her fruit bowl for the weekend. After making a brief stop at the small vegan food section, her eyes caught sight of the frozen aisle. _Ice-cream is the perfect cure for a headache…sure, it's gone now, but one can still celebrate its absence properly. And, if I recall, there is a small selection of vegan ice cream in that aisle…_

It really hadn't been much of an internal debate. She wanted something tasty to splurge a little on, so she strolled across the store slowly, taking in the sights and smells, the sound of Blondie's 'Heart of Glass' fading out. When she was just three aisles away, a familiar song started up, forcing a smile to curl at her lips. It had been one of her daddy's favourites, and he used to sing it to her when she was younger on the way to school.

As she turned the corner into the aisle, her eyes immediately found the container she was looking for, dark chocolate cashew ice-cream. She'd had one container before during the summer and she was almost certain she hadn't had anything so tasty. Rachel reached to open the freezer door, but the sound of a smooth, smoky voice down the aisle froze her in place. Her head turned to see Santana Lopez, local HBIC and fiery bitch of McKinley High, singing Starship.

"Looking in your eyes, I see a paradise…this world that I've found is too good to be true. Standing here beside you, want so much to give you this love in my heart, that I'm feeling for you…" the cheerleader sang smoothly, her eyes closed and a ghost of a smile on her lips.

It was surreal, the girl leaning up against the empty skid hauler in her aisle, singing along wholeheartedly. Her ice-cream momentarily forgotten in favour of a musical opportunity, Rachel took a few steps toward the girl; Santana hadn't spotted her yet, her focus on the other end of the aisle where a clock sat atop the wall.

"Let'em say we're crazy, I don't care about that." Rachel sang, jumping into the second vocalist's role, a wide smile on her face. Whenever the opportunity for karaoke was offered up, she simply had to go for it. She figured if Santana was singing, then she could too. Fair was fair, right?

Santana spun around and almost fell, her face entirely red, her eyes wide as her hands shot up to cover her face. The girl was clearly embarrassed, but the only way Rachel could think to normalize the experience was to just keep singing along and embarrass herself harder than the other girl. She was shameless when it came to music, and she found it would be a good opportunity to show it. "Put your hand in my hand baby, don't ever look back! Let the world around us just fall apart… baby we can make it if we're heart to heart!" She continued, trying to goad the girl into both taking her part in the chorus and offering her hand in a theatrical gesture. It wasn't as if Rachel had a reputation to protect, so she animatedly gestured to the girl, who broke out in a sort of horrified laughter at her antics.

Santana looked positively mortified, but also entirely amused, shaking her head at Rachel as she sang her part of the chorus, trying her best not to laugh throughout. As the song went on, Rachel could hardly believe Santana was acting and dancing along with her, being uncharacteristically silly for once as they both sung their hearts out to the cheesy tune. She kind of liked seeing that in the typically stone-faced, fire-eyed girl.

As the song faded out into some Peter Gabriel number she didn't recognize, Rachel stepped away from Santana, smiling widely at the girl. "That was fun!" she exclaimed, clapping happily as she let out a happy sigh. Performing was her true love, and any venue was a good venue in Rachel's mind. And she truly enjoyed having someone along for the ride, for once.

Santana had this entirely amused grin on her face that she seemed to be fighting, but her eyes were just sparkling. "Berry, you're ridiculous. Go get your damn ice-cream before the store closes." The girl noted, chuckling to herself.

Rachel did just that, feeling entirely thankful for the reminder, as ice-cream was the absolute last thing on her mind at the moment. She had to wonder how the girl knew why she was in the aisle in the first place, though. After grabbing her carton, Santana followed her to the open cash and was nice enough to check her out, saying the cashier was probably on a smoke break or left early. It was nice to just be helped by a familiar face, and she'd gotten a bemused wave from the cheerleader on her way out of the store, which she'd obviously returned, because being polite and friendly were important traits for a glee captain.

While the evening had started poorly, she couldn't contain her joy as she exited the store. In her mind, you couldn't do much better than karaoke and ice-cream.

* * *

**A/N: Another short little drabble, but I couldn't help but write it when one of my neighbours started blaring that this morning while vacuuming up the mess from their party. :P**

**Thanks everyone for your support, I'm just really happy that I've been able to give you all some fun reading material. **

**And yes, as a Guest pointed out, I do tend to write pre-relationship arcs fairly often...mostly because I find them fun and it's an interesting way to see if I can keep things fresh, and also where I can see what narrative crutches I have. I don't think all of my stories are the 'same', per se, so much as there's a very general plot progression I've followed in some: usually indifferent/neutral/hostile starting point -} Intrigue -} Building attraction/friendship/bonding -} Some sort of romantic decision. This is, of course, a loose form of it, because it's not like I sit down and plan most of these things out. it just happens because i'm comfortable writing that sort of thing. Since I usually shy away from love at first sight sort of narratives, there's not a heck of a lot of variance for any writer to use when doing any sort of romance, at least up until that point. Past that, there's a lot of territory I haven't explored in my published stuff.  
If this is just some mild impatience about me not writing PAST the point where the relationship has started, then I can absolutely empathize with that. I really haven't published much of anything with that sort of thing yet, and I know when I read fics, I do very much enjoy all the wonderful stuff past that point, so I understand, I do. I**** So if it's that you want something past that lead-in arc,**** promise, it's on the way. ;) Hell, I have two unpublished fics taking place with established pairings, I'm just not 100% confident in the quality of them right now, and I've been tinkering with them for weeks.  
**

**And because these are short one-shots, I'm not about to shoehorn crazy drama in or an excess amount of character development, or sharp 180 degree changes in how a character feels for another. I can see how my one-shots lately have been somewhat redundant on some levels...like I said, I like playing with the themes and prompts, and seeing how I can write some fluff in there. They're writing exercises for me. So while I will eventually get to the prompts I've outlined that involve established Pezberry/Quinntana/Faberry etc., I tend to write what gets me excited, and after having had a whole spring season of weddings and whatnot to attend with friends who have been in established relationships for 2-6 years, I've been on a bit of a binge with writing 'new love' stuff. **

**tl;dr I'm working on writing more variety in terms of base plot progression :) Encores won't likely have much established pairing stuff, but my longer fics will, fair warning. :D**

**Anywho, sorry for the long, tedious note. Just felt it'd be polite to reply, and since I can't PM, this seemed like the second best option :)**


	20. Stranded

_50 Words in 30 Days:_ **#19 Stranded**

* * *

Santana Lopez was not a happy girl. As she drove down the wintery county road toward her destination, she considered all of the words that could describe her current mood. Furious, agitated, incensed, raging, fuming, livid, rabid, frenetic; none seemed to fully capture how horrifically pissed off she was about being roped into her current mission. It only sucked worse that it was taking part in a damned blizzard. It was rare that Britt used her wiles to coerce her into doing anything, but Santana had fallen victim to the blonde's pout.

It wasn't fair in the least; Puck had volunteered her home as the party venue for the glee club's Christmas celebration, yet there she was, almost a hundred and seventy-five miles away, heading to the Fabray cottage in Buttfuck, Nowhere. Meanwhile, Britt was probably spending the afternoon with Wheels, getting cozy on the bastard's lap while she was fetching Quinn. The blonde had left after her last exam of the semester, insisting that she wanted to spend the holidays alone at her cottage to take a break from the world; Quinn's mom had left the state to visit Franny and her fiancée for the second half of December, and it seemed to rub her the wrong way. And of course, once Britt learned about that, the dancer insisted that someone go get Quinn and bring her to their party to cheer her up and make her feel included. And since she and Britt had been the only people in glee who had been to the cottage, and Britt was bad with directions, Santana had been sent away. All while the rest of the club decorated her house with shit that Santana was sure no one would bother to clean up afterward except for Rachel.

Britt had made her leave around eleven, hoping that they'd get back by six, because the party was set to start at seven. Santana felt fortunate that she'd taken her father's SUV because the snow was a lot thicker down there in the boonies, and it was still falling pretty damn hard. A little snow was always alright, she figured, but a mountain of it just made it hell to get around, and the long-ass driveway to the cottage was pretty much covered in close to a foot and a half of snow.

Eventually, she pulled up, parking beside Quinn's snow-covered car. Santana wasn't sure how she'd go about wrangling the blonde away from her holiday hide-out, mostly because the weather had been too poor during the trip to focus on anything else, but she'd always been able to get Quinn to do stuff for her. It usually just took a bit of time, with the occasional bribe or promise. It was then that she regretted bringing the cooler full of frozen bacon as a peace offering.

Deciding that she may as well get it over with, Santana got out of the car and tromped her way over to the door as quickly as she could before she could be mistaken for a snowman. Santana left three quick, sharp knocks on the door, waiting impatiently as snow whirled around her, not enjoying the lack of cover the slight overhang had. It seemed ridiculous that a cabin would have a porch facing goddamn water instead of one facing the driveway. _Seriously, how else are people supposed to weather snowstorms in peace when they're visiting and waiting for one of the damn Fabrays to open the door? I'd consider walking around the damn house to get to the back door, but there's too much snow…seriously, if Quinn doesn't answer soon, I'll flip!_

Another three sharp knocks later and she heard something from inside the home. Breathing a sigh of relief, she listened past the sound of the snowstorm, hearing the pattering of feet approaching, before the door swung open a few inches, Quinn's face half hidden behind it.

"San?" the blonde asked, clearly all kind of confused by her scrunched up her face was. After waiting a grand total of one and a half seconds, Santana started tapping her foot on the snow covered little welcome mat, getting impatient about the fact that Quinn wasn't immediately letting her in.

"Come on, Q, if you don't let me in I'll stab you with my frozen nips." She ground out, Quinn rolling her eyes at her, but she was serious. They felt like full on ice-picks, and Santana was sure she could slice someone open with them.

The door promptly opened and Quinn ushered her into the confines of the cottage, away from the frigid winter air. "What the hell are you doing here, Santana?" Quinn seemed a little annoyed as she spoke, her brow furrowed, pinching the bridge of her nose with her fingers. It all seemed a bit over the top to Santana. So what if she arrived unannounced after Quinn said she wanted to be alone? She didn't think it was all that crazy of a disruption or anything.

"Like that's any way to greet a guest Q, gimme a break! Can't I just drop by to see you or whatever?" she asked as she slid off her boots, taking a moment to hang her coat on the rack, thankful to be free of its bulk.

Quinn let out a long, exasperated sigh and crossed the floor to lean on the banister for the stairwell. "Look, I came here to be alone, I told you I wanted to be alone, so I'm not sure where, in all of that, you thought to yourself 'Hey, I should visit Quinn'!" the blonde ranted, her eyes flashing with annoyance as her hand seemed to grip the wooden railing pretty damn hard. _Well, maybe she's a little more than annoyed…whatever, I have a job…_

"Q, you've never been able to stand being alone. Even earlier this year when you tried to go all 'loner punk' on us, you were a loner with sidekicks." She noted with a snicker, recalling the absolutely ludicrous fashion catastrophe Quinn was earlier in the year. Sure, it'd been fun to see her step out of her comfort zone with that choppy pink hair and those torn clothes, and it wasn't like Quinn stopped being hot or anything, but it just wasn't Quinn. It hadn't fit her, and it was kind of hilarious that she'd jumped into the punk cliché that was so obviously a perfect contrast against her regular prissy preacher's daughter look she'd rocked for as long as Santana knew her. And because Santana knew her blonde friend, she wasn't surprised when the girl glared at her for laughing. Nor was she surprised when Quinn turned and started marching off upstairs, so Santana knew she'd need a distraction before the girl's rage built. "Remember when you'd be grounded and sent to your room for 'alone time', and you'd flash morse code at my bedroom window because you got lonely? Q, is it so hard to believe I'd be here to check up on you?"

"Yes." Was the answer that she received immediately, the short unequivocally revealing the blonde's certainty. Sure, Quinn had been right, but it still kind of sucked to hear that, so she improvised.

"Okay, okay…look, Britt was telling everyone that she missed you, and I volunteered to go get you because I like having you around to glare at people with me. Two birds with one stone, happy?" she asked, hoping the clarification would soften the blonde up, especially because it was pretty accurate, but she simply took another slow step up the staircase.

Deciding she'd have to step it up, she went to follow, but Quinn's head spun around as she reached the bottom of the stairs. "What do you mean 'everyone'? And no, I'm not happy…go away, San."

"If you need cheering up, I've got frozen bacon in the car…" she stated, letting her voice trail off teasingly as her friend eyed her curiously, before turning around, crossing her arms. Realizing Quinn wanted her to answer the other, absolutely dumb, unnecessary question, she let out a sigh as a show of frustration. Because seriously, Quinn knew she hated explaining easy shit. "Look, the gleeks wanted to host a party and for some fucking reason, Puck invited them to my place without telling me. So there I am at, like, seven last night at the Lima Bean and all of glee shows up and I'm flipping out because they're springing this shit on me, and then I ended up volunteering myself to come get you."

"Because you want me to glare at people with you and share your misery." Quinn noted flatly, though Santana was perceptive, she spied with her little eye the slight upward curl of her friend's lips.

She took another step up toward the blonde. "Don't pretend you wouldn't like it, Q. You think people suck almost as much as I do, and I really, really want you there." She answered, earning a scoff from Quinn as the girl started back up the stars again. "Seriously, Rachel and Finn are disgusting, and I'm gonna have to deal with the Chang twins necking all night, not to mention Britt getting cozy with the transformer."

"So you want me because you're mad at Britt and need someone else to sulk with." Quinn quipped sharply as she neared the top of the stairs. "It's been four months, get over it, San."

Santana didn't know much, but she did know that she wouldn't take that lying down, especially since Quinn hadn't ever spoken to her about Britt since her potentially compromised BFF started dating Wheels again. "I'm sorry that couples tend to disgust me, Q. And I'm over Britt, I'm just trying to be her friend and shit now." Santana was sure Quinn wasn't getting calmer, and despite that being her initial goal, her pride was a little hurt and she kind of put her priority on setting Quinn straight.

Normally, Santana liked Quinn's laugh. It was usually a sweet, melodic, joyful thing that let her know her old friend Lucy was still in there, in all her exuberant glory. However, the girl at the top of the stairs' laugh was a different; it was harder, with a harsh, staggered tone to it. Santana couldn't help but be a little unnerved. "Really, S? Friends? You're gonna pull that card right now?" Quinn asked, her tone low and seething with anger that Santana hadn't expected. Still, she ascended the rest of the stairs, her hand on the banister as Quinn met her at the top. "She probably just tossed out that pout and you were a good little dog and obeyed."

Santana swallowed the bite of the girl's words and glared back at her incensed friend, channeling some of the anger she felt throughout the trip over to the cottage. "Fuck you! Are you really bringing this shit up now? I can say no!"

"When?!" Quinn yelled out, moving within an inch or two of her, their noses nearly touching from their proximity. "Anything she says, you do! Anywhere she goes, you follow! Anyone who…"

"I loved her, Quinn!" she interrupted, though she honestly hadn't expected to blurt out those specific words. She'd meant for some expletives or some incendiary remarks about how silly Quinn had been about her cold, lifeless relationships with the boys she'd dated. "I was her fucking girlfriend!"

"No, she just fucked you!" the blonde shot out, and Santana felt her arms move before she could even think, shoving Quinn back slightly, too taken aback by the girl's words to put any decent amount of energy into it, and it seemed Quinn realized that. "That's what you got, San! She was too freaking innocent to have any damn clue what you felt for her, so when someone came along and said all the right words, ones she could understand, she left you. And you can't take it so you still do what she says because you still want her, but she doesn't even think about you!"

"At least I had someone who looked at me and saw something more than a fucking hole!" she shot back, though she mostly meant it within her own context. Because Britt had actually liked her for her, unlike everyone else, but as the words left her mouth, she could see that Quinn thought they were directed at her. Which made for a good insult, but not really anything she was aiming for. It was bittersweet to see the sheer hurt across the blonde's face.

Maybe it was because she was too busy staring at Quinn's expression that she didn't see the slap coming, but it hit her hard. Quinn was always a genius slapper, and that one was worthy of a PhD by how it had knocked her off balance, sending her stumbling back. Santana's left foot didn't find any footing when it stepped back, and she could only try to reach out and grab hold of something as she fell.

* * *

It was almost comical how everything around Quinn seemed to slow to a crawl when her hand impacted against Santana's face. Never in her life had she truly caught the girl off guard before; she'd slapped her friend seven times before, and in each, her friend had at least braced for it in some way. It was weird to have finally gotten the girl with the full force of her hand; it was something she'd never actually expected would happen in her entire life. Yet there was Santana, stumbling backward, the girl's shocked expression only making her feel worse about what she'd said before. She knew Santana would rile her up after she'd baited her, the girl always did. If Santana was anything, she was honest about the important stuff, and it was that important stuff that had set Quinn off.

Just like how Santana's leg hitting thin air set time in motion again, and had her realizing what was about to happen because of her own foolish, unchecked aggression. Quinn barely had enough time to scream her friend's name before Santana tumbled violently down the hardwood stairs, her head thankfully cushioned by her arm as she hit the main floor. All the thoughts storming in her mind were overruled by a single one. _No._

"Oh my god, San!" she cried out as she hurried down the stairs, spotting a fresh, bloody wound across the girl's forehead, though she wasn't sure if her words could be heard over the guttural scream escaping Santana. The sound alone had tears spilling down her cheeks. _I did this…I hurt her…_

She quickly reached at Santana to pull the girl onto her back, maybe help see better what damage she'd done, but a quick hand angrily slapped hers away. "D…don't fucking touch me! Stay the fuck away from me!" the girl cried out, a hoarse, pained gasp leaving Santana's lips as she curled further in on herself protectively.

Quinn couldn't help but sob at the sight as she slumped down onto the bottom step. In all her years, she'd never made Santana cry directly. She'd never, ever caused the girl any sort of pain or harm that couldn't be fixed with an apologetic smile or a gift certificate to BreadStix. And Santana had upset her occasionally with names, or with cold silence within McKinley's halls, but she'd always had her back in the Cheerios and out of school. She'd always been a phone-call away if Quinn had needed anything, and it killed her to see the girl curled up in front of her, shaking, angry and betrayed. At least, Quinn felt she'd betrayed her. _Even if she came here just because of Britt, she didn't deserve even those words…she didn't deserve this…_

"San, let me help, please." She whispered between sobs wracking her body; normally she could be calm when upset, it was something her father had forced her to learn. It was different, seeing her childhood savior bleeding and broken in front of her. "I'm so, so sorry, San. Let me fix you up, please."

The room was quiet with the sound of two girls trying desperately to keep hold of their emotions, both failing just enough for Quinn to let her failure seep in. She couldn't look away, not with her friend in need of help, and the sight sapped away at her ability to breathe the longer that Santana remained silent.

"Fuck." The girl whimpered, her other hand slowly, with a pained hiss, coming up to touch the bloody gash on her head. "Q…gimme a washcloth."

It took her a moment to will her legs to move, and her head followed Santana's fallen form as long as it could until she was out of view, her body carrying her to the bathroom. Quickly, she grabbed the first aid kit, grabbed a washcloth, and rushed back to her friend.

She tried to reach out again but Santana squirmed away, her hands not rising to attack that time, but in defense. It made Quinn flinch back with shame, her hand ever so slightly grazing her friend's hands with the washcloth.

Santana grabbed it slowly and brought it to her head, the girl's body jolting slightly as it made contact, a soft cry echoing in the empty foyer. Quinn wiped away her tears and tried to be useful for once, focusing on the darker girl's body to see if anything looked broken or anything. Nothing stood out too much after a few seconds, but it did seem that every time Santana shifted her body, she winced. Noticing her friend hadn't moved much since her fall, she could only imagine that the girl's shoulder might be fractured or dislocated. It was a hard fall, and those floors weren't the least bit soft.

As Santana held the cloth to the head wound, Quinn knelt beside her, palms facing toward herself, figuring that the girl would see it as less threatening than facing outward, consider the damage had been done by an open-handed slap and all. "Santana…please…at least let me get you onto the couch in the living room. It's softer there, and…and I need to know you'll be alright."

She watched Santana's expression harden momentarily, though it was hard to see Santana as the same determined girl when her lip was quivering and her mascara was streaming wildly across her face. "O…one minute. It's all you get…help lay me down." The girl stated angrily; if Quinn couldn't see Santana, and hadn't heard her voice catch at the start, she would have thought Santana was fine and dandy. Quinn did as she was bid and slowly, cautiously got Santana onto her back, her fears detected as she helped the girl move into a sitting position.

Quinn hated seeing her friend in so much pain, and she knew dislocated shoulders were hell most of the time. Most of the cheerios would usually get her or the Coach to help if ever it happened during practice, but Santana had always gone it alone. As Santana leaned back, applying pressure as she held her knee, she tried to ignore the girl's muttered expletives, painful wheezing, and stifled whimpers. Her friend had her eyes closed as always, never enjoying it when anyone saw her vulnerable or hurting.

When it finally popped back into place, Santana let out a loud scream, Quinn taking advantage to quickly scoop the pained girl up and rush her into the living room. Cautiously, she dropped the shaking girl on the couch, temporarily ignoring the sobs filling the room as she went back to grab some painkillers, some butterfly stitches, and some water.

The half a minute away from Santana was pure torture, just hearing the agony that she'd put her closest friend through._ I'm a horrible, horrible person…God, why did I hit her?! Why did I have to get so angry? It's not like it's a surprise that she…she…but she actually said the damn words, and…God…I fucked up so, so badly…_

She returned and gently placed the glass of water into one of Santana's hands, having to pry the other away from the girl's eyes to place the pills in it. "Take these...I know you're hurting. I'm so sorry, San."

Her friend quickly took them, still wincing as she moved her damaged arm, and then turned away from Quinn, facing the backrest. Just seeing Santana shut her out like that was heartbreaking. Knowing it was fully justified made her chest tighten and her breathing unsteady. Deciding to give the girl some space, she moved to the far side of the room and curled up in her favourite chair, covering herself entirely in a blanket so she could pretend the world didn't exist. That she hadn't just killed her best, longest friendship in her life simply because she was feeling something she'd never chosen to feel and had let herself be angry enough to act on it.

* * *

Santana awoke to darkness and pain. Her whole body ached something fierce, but at least her shoulder was feeling a little better, and her head was stitched up; it was clear that the meds that put her to sleep were fading, and that soon enough the pain would return. It all seemed so bizarre, as she'd taken harder tumbles in her life, but that one had hurt the most. Santana would never say it out loud, but she adored Quinn, the girl was practically her best, closest friend. Sure, Britt was her BFF, but Quinn gave her the honesty and perspective that her ex-girlfriend couldn't, and that was something Santana had always valued. It was a big reason why she didn't explode on Quinn upstairs, and instead tried to help the blonde see her side of things. That, and Santana knew that the girl had a point. She knew that she had a really hard time saying no to Britt, and that it was a problem. It just sucked being called out on it.

It sucked even more to have been slapped into another dimension, and the fall was just the icing on the fucking cake. Her shoulder hurt like hell, her whole body ached, and Santana was pretty sure she strained her right wrist a little, but it didn't hurt as much as the fact that Quinn actually hurt her. If Santana were to be truthful, she still hadn't wrapped her mind around that yet. The girl was usually really nice and patient with her, and spared her the usual ice-queen behavior; the blonde had only ever attacked her in self defense before, and they'd quickly healed things up between them after that incident in junior year. So she was kind of freaked out a little bit.

Thankfully, though, her brain started to work as she came out of her daze, realizing that it was damn dark in the home. Not only had the sun set outside, but none of the lights were on inside; it was clear that she wouldn't be getting back to Lima in time for the party like Britt had hoped, and it probably meant that the power was out. The low light made it a bit difficult to see, the only source in the room was the small fire that was going in the fireplace. It didn't exactly warm up the room, the air surprisingly cool, though Santana was pleased to be warm under the blankets she was covered in. She wasn't sure when she'd been given them, but she was kind of thankful. Santana was still pissed at Quinn for what she did, but she knew the girl regretted it, or she wouldn't have been so broken up about it afterward. She figured she'd milk the blonde for all she was worth, and maybe then she'd forgive Quinn.

_Speak of the devil…_ she mused, as the back door opened, Quinn shaking off the snow as she tossed off her coat. Santana watched silently with barely opened eyes, deciding to be a little sneaky, see what the girl was up to. It was only when the blonde got closer that she realized she was carrying firewood, placing it on the shelf beside the fireplace along with a heck of a lot of other pieces. Santana saw Quinn put the four quartered pieces of wood in their secure shelf and, after hesitating for a moment, trudge back toward the door. Normally, she'd be keeping a closer eye on her friend, but she was too busy counting the fairly large pieces of wood, seeing at least twenty. _That's, like, five trips…and their shed's like, all the way back near the tree line. Not a long walk, but in this snow and this weather… _she thought to herself, hearing the howling winds outside. _There's enough wood in here for Berry to build a dam for her woodland friends and family…_

About ten minutes later Quinn returned again with another four, filling the shelf entirely, before slumping down onto the floor. Santana could see Quinn was shivering, the girl biting her lip as she stared into the warm glow of the fire. The blonde slipped her coat off, absentmindedly discarding it onto the floor beside her, before lying down on the furry rug nearby; Santana peeked around the room, spotting a number of blankets the girl could use to keep warmer, but Quinn just remained by the fire. She hoped her friend would stay warm enough there. It didn't matter that the girl had nearly accidentally killed her, Santana didn't like seeing Quinn upset or uncomfortable unless it was after a good-natured prank, or payback for something.

Despite usually being a raging mega-bitch, she really didn't have the heart to treat the two blondes in her life that way; Britt was too sweet and innocent, and Quinn had been dealt a shit hand in her life. It was too hard to be viciously angry at either of them. Heck, it was hard enough simply staying a normal kind of angry for any length of time. So when she heard Quinn crying down there on the rug, with unrestrained, choking sobs escaping her, it was kind of really freaking sad. There wasn't anything for the blonde to gain from it, it wasn't a show, it was her other best friend crying her eyes out and showing some damn honest emotion. And just like that, most of her anger slipped away, replaced by worry. Lucy had been a really emotional girl, and while she'd only rarely been exposed to that side of Quinn, she knew it was there, and saw it in the blonde curled up on the rug.

"Ugh, Q…you know I can't take it when you cry…" Santana whispered out, causing Quinn to sit up so fast that she feared the girl would get whiplash. Almost as quickly, the blonde scurried over to the couch, to kneel by her side, the girl's hand hesitantly hovering above Santana's head before fingers slid through her raven locks. It was something that always made her feel better, and Quinn always gave the best scalp massages. "You owe me like, twenty thousand massages for botching the job, blondie. Sue would totes be miffed about both your sloppy execution and style. The stairs, Q? Seriously? Amateur."

Quinn made this weird strangled gasp that morphed into an equally weird shuddering laugh, the girl's cheeks glimmering and wet, what with the dull light of the flames highlighting her face. Santana was at least happy to get her friend laughing again, because hey, it was an accident, and she'd make sure that Quinn pampered her to shit until she was better. And then everything would be back to normal and good.

"San, do…do you need anything? Food or water? Meds? Blankets? Are you warm? The power's out and…and I'm…" Quinn started rambling frantically, looking her over as if she was about to have some sort of aneurysm or a baby or something, so Santana cut her off.

"No shit the power's out...just because you slapped me five years into the future doesn't mean that I don't know a power outage when I see one, Q." she answered with a chuckle, her ribs hurting a little as she laughed. "And what was with the lumberjack routine? You're fucking freezing." Santana finished, her hand grabbing hold of Quinn's other hand, which was cool to the touch.

"I needed to make sure you'd be warm enough." The blonde mumbled, moving her hand away from Santana's and down onto Santana's blanketed stomach. "You…you have to…"

Santana winced as the blonde broke into sobs again, reluctantly pulling her arms out of the warm confines of the blanket and around the girl's shoulders, pulling her into a pseudo-hug. It was the best she could do from her position, really, but Quinn practically flopped onto her and clutched her for dear life. "I know, Q. I know. It's okay…you know me, I'm fine." She cooed into the girl's ear, patting Quinn's back lightly in hopes it would help calm her. She'd never been a genius hugger or anything like Britt, but she usually knew what people were thinking and feeling if she paid close enough attention, and her friend was obviously desperate for reassurance and absolution. "Blondie, I need you to take a deep breath and calm your tits, okay? I know you need to apologize to me so you can feel better, but you can't do that if your eyes are trying to mimic the Niagara Falls." It was weird talking all soft and whatever, but Santana knew that the girl needed to know that it was okay to be upset and sad and everything. Otherwise, Quinn would shut down and distance herself, and Santana didn't want that, not with them stranded in a cabin with a blizzard roaring around them.

Quinn took a few seconds to reel herself in, separating from Santana and placing her hands down by her side. She'd never seen the blonde so distraught and nervous, which was freaky, since the girl had been kicked out of her home and had endured a failed 'fake-the-baby-daddy' plot that embarrassed the shit out of her. Among other things of course, but those had been the previous two major events. Sure, Santana knew Quinn thought of her as a friend, but didn't think that she meant all that much to her. It was a bit weird, and a little flattering. "San, I…I need you to know that I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt y…you, and it's all my fault that you fell. I regretted the slap right away and I'm so sorry, I was a bitch."

Santana gave the girl a cheeky smile that seemed to immediately brighten Quinn's mood. "Yeah, you were a bitch, and I still don't know why you slapped me, but…I'll forgive you, Q. Just make sure you work your magic hands and make me better, okay? I'm pretty fucking sore." She responded, holding out a fist; it was their way of committing to deals. Naïve little Lucy in sixth grade had started the tradition, and Santana had found it so utterly hilarious that Lucy would fist-bump that she had to keep it going. At least, after she relentlessly made fun of the girl for a few days over it.

"Do you want one now? I don't want you in pain or anything, San." Quinn rushed out, leaning forward, the brilliant hue of her hazel eyes sadly shadowed under the lighting conditions. The girl's eyes had always been the prettiest part of her by any stretch, and she missed seeing them.

"Nah, you need to warm those puppies up before I let you fondle me, Q. Just get some rest, okay? Climb up on the other side, there's enough blankets for both of us, and you'll be warm in no time. Oh, and I hate to break it to you, but you're just not cut out for beards and flannel, blondie…that, and I don't want rough callused hands on my neck and shoulders or whatever." Santana answered, sitting up just enough to toss an extra pillow over to the other side, haphazardly getting that side prepped. She saw the reluctance in the blonde's face, but she knew it was an awesome idea; Santana was a furnace, and knew that if Quinn shared her body heat, both of them would be all warm and cozy in minutes. And then, she could get a nice massage, and not feel like a zombie was feeling her up. Because seriously, zombies. Gross.

She grinned at the blonde as she slipped onto the other side and got under the blanket, their legs resting beside each others. It was honestly just too shitty of a situation for Santana to make a big deal about being knocked down the stairs or whatever, especially given that she was fine, aside from a short few moments of excruciating pain. They were stuck in a cottage, snowed in without power, and she was feeling kind of lousy. She didn't want to make her friend any more upset, and if that meant she was a pushover, then whatever. She just wanted to feel better and make the best of her time, because she was at least spending it with someone she liked. _It was just an accident…Like she said, she didn't mean to hurt me or anything…and besides, I knocked her around after she told coach about my surgery, and I didn't answer her phone the night she got kicked out because I was too busy getting busy with Britt…so it's not like I'm all innocent…but I'll need to make sure I figure out why she got pissed, because I've rarely seen her that mad before…_

* * *

By some ridiculous twist of fate, Quinn found herself in Santana's good graces again. She knew she honestly didn't deserve to be, but there she was, lying across from the girl, both sharing tales from their youth. They'd been resting together for hours, the time nearing ten o'clock, but it had all gone by so quickly since her friend had forgiven her. It was like all was right in the world again, and she could breathe. Santana was a notorious grudge-holder, and was a straight-up bitch at times, but she was at least straight-up with Quinn whenever they'd feud. She knew that she could trust the girl's word when Santana said that they were fine, because Quinn knew the girl would never lie about anything so serious.

Again, it wasn't something she deserved given her actions, but she was happy as a clam, and hoped that the night could end on a positive note. "You remember that treehouse you helped me build in fourth grade, Q?"

Quinn couldn't help but laugh at the memory. It had taken them twelve days to build, and all their allowances to afford the supplies, but they'd gone out into a small patch of woodland near Santana's home and built a treehouse in the forest. It wasn't perfect by any stretch, and at times it had fallen apart somewhat and needed repairs, but they'd loved it. "How could I not? That place was our home. We worked so hard on it…remember when I fell out of the tree when we were building the roof, and you told my dad that Karofsky pushed me down on the tarmac at school?"

"You know I had your back, Q." the girl across from her chuckled, smiling wistfully, likely at the memories. "We spent that whole summer in there…I remember asking you to name the place and you called it Nebraska. Fucking Nebraska! I swore, I'd never laughed so hard, Q."

She blushed beet red at the memory, recalling the reason why she'd given it that name. In truth, her sister had mentioned offhandedly once that their parents hated Nebraska, and she liked to imagine that in that home, her parents wouldn't find her. That she could be free of their rules, regulations and punishments. That she could just be with Santana and get away from all the stifling sadness in her house, and just be with her partner in crime. "Yeah… but then I screwed up, and my parents found the receipt for all the stuff I bought. I always ruined our fun, San." She noted sadly, wishing that she'd have been successful at keeping one of their fun pastimes free of her parents' involvement throughout her childhood.

"Beh, THEY ruined our fun. Especially your dad. Fucking douchebag questioned the 'structural integrity' of the place. We jumped around and danced and stuff in there, and it held. We did a damn good job, but the jerk tore it all down." Santana ranted quietly, her eyes intense as she stared out the window as the blizzard outside. She looked a bit on edge, chewing her lip a little. "They were always trying to trip you up, Q. It was never your fault."

"Good to know, but it doesn't make me feel much better. They sent me to ballet and gymnastics classes in grade seven outside of town because they didn't want you joining me. Because they thought you were a bad influence." Quinn said, flopping backward onto a pillow and the soft armrest. "It's weird, because you were pretty much the only good thing about my childhood, you know? At least, in retrospect, you were. The summer after grade eight was the worst."

Santana hummed in approval before shifting on the couch, slipping her body between the backrest and Quinn's body, her head resting on the blonde's stomach. Quinn smiled at the gesture, and it only grew when she felt Santana hug her legs. "We were supposed to hang out all summer, but your parents sent you to some shitty cheerleading camp. Even if you came back a fucking bombshell, it was a shitty summer, not hearing you gripe and moan every day." Santana grumbled as she got comfy in her new position, stretching her legs out a bit before re-adjusting the blanket. "You know, I only joined the Cheerios because you did, Q."

She couldn't help but gasp a little, because seriously, Santana had been just as gung ho about it all as she'd been at the start of it all. "Seriously?" she asked, having a really difficult time believing that, because while she knew that Santana would only rarely lie to her, it just didn't make sense.

"You came back from that camp so excited about it, and you looked different, and high school was coming up…I didn't want to lose you, I guess. It sucked enough being away from you all summer, I needed to make sure we'd go into McKinley together…we were partners, you know? And I could dance, so I figured it couldn't be too hard, so long as you were there." Santana explained, and she supposed she could understand. In fact, Quinn understood really well, except when she'd been in that position, she'd done the exact opposite. Thinking back, it was almost purely because of her faith-based upbringing that she'd allowed herself to shut down and keep distance. It had been her biggest mistake, her greatest regret. And to hear that her best friend had made the right decision only hurt more. Ever since near the end of sixth grade, her parents had pushed this specific image onto her, along with a slew of expectations; from then on, she knew the love from her parents was conditional. That it would be earned by meeting certain goals, holding herself a certain way in public, dating certain people. She'd gotten lost in that for a long time, and only that past summer had she finally broken free of the hold her parents had on her in the past. It had been freeing, and she'd celebrated it with a pink dye-job. It was kind of cute, she figured, especially with the choppy haircut Santana had helped her pick out in New York. It was one her biggest regrets, not jumping on the vague offer that her best friend had given her in that hotel room.

Quinn let out a sigh as memories flooded back. "I didn't know that…but I'm glad you joined. I just wish…God, what I'd give to re-do high school." She noted, shaking her head. When she looked back down and spotted Santana's inquisitive expression, complete with raised eyebrow, she felt a little trapped. _Still, Santana's been honest with me…I…I should be honest too_. She mused, as she willed up the courage to speak her mind. "I wish I could have taken back every fight we had. They were all so stupid."

"Q, we've always butted heads. It's how we are… we get pissy with each other and then make up. Hell, even when we're angry with each other, it's never serious or whatever." Santana noted calmly, her hand rubbing light circles on her thighs, which was a really nice feeling, if unexpected. "But I wish I wasn't stupid enough to let you push me away all the time."

"I'm not sure you could have done anything about that, San. I was pretty messed up and sometimes I was just looking for reasons to abandon you." Quinn said, and immediately, Santana's hand stilled in place, the girl looking up slowly with concerned eyes.

" 'Abandon' is a strong word, blondie." The girl noted softly, before lowering her head back onto Quinn's stomach. "I…thought you were pissed at me sometimes, or got frustrated with me, but…you wouldn't have done that to me, right?"

Quinn let out another, longer sigh, biting back her tears as memories of sophomore and junior year passed through her mind. "I wasn't thinking right. I just…I thought I was losing you. You might not have made it easy on me, but I shouldn't have…I should have known you'd stick by me. Instead, I went out of my way to piss you off and make you hate me."

"Q…" The single syllable was laced with so much sorrow that Quinn could barely take it, her panic quickly setting in as Santana detached herself and sat up, looking so utterly confused and betrayed. Quinn had only shown the girl why she hadn't deserved forgiveness, that she'd betrayed her in the past enough for Santana to never trust her again. Even if she was exorcising old demons, she couldn't help the growing well of emotion building in her chest and skull. "Q, I…fuck, you could get BreadStix shut down forever on a health code violation and I'd still be at your side. I'd be pissed, but…look, is this…is this about Britt?"

She ducked her head in shame, her action certainly enough of an answer, but the dragging silence proved only that Santana seemed to want to hear her say the words. "It…I was fine including her. I love Britt, everyone does but…when it stopped being the three of us hanging out, when you two starting spending most of your time together, I felt lost. I'm sorry, okay? I thought I was losing you to her, and I tried…I tried to find other people to pass the time with. Finn, Puck, Sam, Mercedes…none of them helped. I missed you."

It was an unprecedented level of information she was talking about; hell, Quinn had never even spoke a word out loud about her predicament through school, but it felt a little freeing to finally admit she'd missed Santana. It was a start, and she honestly didn't want to stop.

"Quinn, I…I'm sorry. I just…I fell in love with her." Santana stated softly, her hand rubbing Quinn's shin tenderly over the blanket.

"I know, San." Quinn responded quickly, with perhaps a little too much haste, and a wee too sharp of a bite to her delivery.

While the following silence only lasted a few seconds, they were torturous. It was too dark to see Santana's face clearly, the girl having turned her head away just enough to ensure the light from the fire gave nothing away. "You hate her for hurting me, don't you?"

It was a question that she'd considered for months. The first time Santana asked Britt out and was rejected, Brittany's only saving grace was that she'd found out that night, and the other blonde was already gone off to a weekend family gathering, far out of Quinn's reach. And when Britt had broken up with her for Artie after apparent communication issues which Quinn assumed had to do with Santana not being out and proud, she'd been equally furious, but couldn't exactly waltz into Artie's house and assassinate her. But the whole time, there had always been another overriding answer. "I hated her for hurting you, yeah…" she started, her voice trailing off, the words she'd thought for years still lodged in the back of her throat as they had been for so long, only taking different form as context demanded.

"But?" Santana asked, clearly hearing the hesitance in her voice. The girl was nothing if not perceptive, and she regretted speaking that much, because she knew the girl would pester her until her questions were answered.

"But I…" she started, trying to imagine a band-aid being ripped off continuously as a loop in her mind, trying to gain the confidence to at least give her best friend the truth of the matter. Quinn turned her gaze away from the girl and toward the fireplace, not able to even speak anymore while facing the person sitting by her feet. "I hated her because you chose her."

She felt a hand squeeze her calf before she heard Santana shift again, but that time Quinn kept the girl from laying down beside her. "No, San. Please…just…stay there."

"Q, I didn't choose her…you're both my best friends." Santana stated exasperatedly, clearly not happy with being held back. She'd never turned away the girl's affection before, and it was clearly freaking Santana out, by the hint of frantic worry in her voice. "Come on, blondie, I wouldn't lie about that, I…"

"San, you chose her, and…and you didn't even see me, okay?" Quinn clarified, but the faint confused huff that her best friend let out only confirmed that she'd need to step away from her vague wording. "She was always more special than me, and I hated that. I love Britt, but I hated that."

Again, she was met with an exasperated sigh, Santana clearly getting really frustrated with her, and the girl's lack of ability to discern what she was saying only twisted the knife more. "Quinn, we were fucking partners, the two top HBICs of McKinley, the only person I could ever scheme about anything with. You're pretty fucking special too, so why the fuck are you telling me this?"

At that, Quinn got up off the couch and took a few steps away from her friend, hoping that it would help her say what she needed to say, and knowing that if things went wrong, she could walk away and Santana would be safe and cozy on the couch. "You'd get this look in your eye whenever she was around, you know. You always tried to be this stone-cold bitch at school, but whenever you looked at her, I'd see a hint of a smile on your lips. And when she'd dance…well, you'd look at her another way. And if you were anyone else I would have thought it was cute, or sweet, or something, but all I knew was that you never looked at me like that. I used to dream you'd look at me like that." Quinn spoke with a calm that surprised even her; she avoided Santana's gaze, keeping it on the stairwell to her right instead. It wasn't as if any expression of Santana's face would surprise her, or that any confirmation of what she knew was true would hurt her any more than she had already been, but it was harder to speak when the girl was staring into her eyes. "But I was never special enough to fall in love with, and…and I can't hate you for that, but I hate that Britt got that from you and she didn't even care. That she just…I…look. I'll be back downstairs to give you some meds in a bit, alright?"

And with that, she took off upstairs at a decent pace, the words she'd spoken having sapped all of the courage out of her body and mind. Quinn quickly found herself in the bathroom, locking the door behind her. She still literally had some dried blood on her hands from when Santana fell, and she supposed that the place she went to hide away was a good one to help her clean that up.

So she washed her hands thoroughly in the freezing cold water; Quinn washed them three times before she decided that maybe a bath would be better. But then she remembered that the power was out, and without the hot water heater, it'd just be unbearable.

So Quinn spent most of the next hour prepping for bed, the room around her lit by candlelight. It was pretty late, and she was feeling more or less exhausted after the day's events. Still, she knew that she still had a responsibility to check on Santana.

Tossing on a robe, Quinn made her way down the stairs barefoot, the cool wood refreshing against the soles of her feet. Her gaze quickly found the couch, but it was empty, and it took a moment for her to realize the girl was sitting down in front of the fireplace, a little too close for Quinn's liking. Quietly, she tiptoed behind her friend and into the nearby kitchen, pouring a glass of water and taking a small handful of pills for Santana to take.

She hadn't been waiting for Santana to come upstairs and find her. The fact that she hadn't didn't change anything, because Quinn understood that life was a whole lot different than in the movies. That there was little room for ultimatums in situations like that, and even less need to get one's hopes up after springing something like that on a life-long friend. Still, though, Quinn couldn't help but be nervous as she walked back into the living room, her feet leading the way to Santana's side.

The girl remained silent, her gaze unwaveringly fixated on the flames before her. Taking it as a sign that Santana didn't want to talk, Quinn swallowed her nerves and placed the glass and pills on the coffee table behind her. "I'll just leave you with some water and some light painkillers. I'm…I'm gonna go to bed, okay?" she asked softly, not sure whether she wanted Santana to keep ignoring her, or if she wanted the girl to speak to her. It hurt either way, only if just as a reminder that she may have irreparably damaged her friendship with the girl. "Night, San."

After waiting a second or two for any kind of feedback, Quinn nodded and retreated back toward the staircase. She knew it was a long shot, but any time either of them slept over at each other's place, Santana would wish her sweet dreams; just hearing the absence of that confirmed that things had changed between them, and certainly not for the better. Worse yet, she was stranded in her cottage with an amazing girl who probably hated her.

* * *

Nothing made sense anymore, and hours upon hours of staring into the fireplace as if it was some magical entity capable of answering riddles of the sphinx certainly didn't help at all. Santana's mind kept replaying that same conversation over and over again, mixed in with little past events that seemed more important in retrospect, but it was all too baffling to comprehend.

Quinn was straight. If someone asked earlier in the day if there was one thing Santana could bank on as a truth, her answer would have been that Quinn was as heterosexual as a girl could be. Sure, she'd known about the blonde's cold, loveless relationships with Finn, Sam and Puck, but every time she'd comforted the girl over the breakups or during lonely spells, Quinn would always talk about how she just needed to meet the right guy. Even in her hormonal swings during her pregnancy, that didn't shift.

And that wasn't even it. Santana had been on the lookout for girls who could appreciate girls ever since she'd entered the hallowed halls of McKinley; it was why she had targeted and befriended Britt, who was the only Cheerio aside from herself who ogled the others on their squad. It turned out that Britt was simply curious, but it wasn't as if Santana missed anything along the way. She'd always watched Quinn closely. The girl had been her first crush, and whenever she was in that treehouse with the blonde, she'd often just pretend that they were a little closer than friends. Hey, her mami always told her that love was love, and she had developed a sort of puppy love way back when. It was a few months after Lucy had come back from camp as Quinn, a hyper-heterosexual bombshell that couldn't stop talking about boys and Jesus, that she made herself get over the blonde.

Even still, she'd given the girl plenty of opportunities to prove her wrong; Santana had held a lot of sleepovers where she'd end up in her underwear, or wearing some lingerie under the excuse that she always went to be in style. She'd held countless pool parties, and had massaged gallons of suntan lotion onto the blonde. Time after time, the blonde simply ignored her, didn't look at her, avoided eye contact, or simply didn't react. Santana knew she had a kicking body, and if blondie had been interested, the girl would have looked or touched.

Quinn was straight. Or, well, so she'd thought, but the girl had turned her world upside down with her confession. And Santana wasn't sure what she was supposed to do, or even what she wanted to do. It had been a while since she'd been in love with the girl, and ever since then, they'd been on rocky ground, but it was at least nice to know where Quinn stood for once. The HBIC had always been elusive about so much, and it was really great, if confusing, to finally have answers to questions she'd been asking herself for a long time.

Santana wasn't really sure what time it was, but her meds were wearing off again, and she was pretty damn tired. Still, her brain was a mess, and despite brief efforts to sleep, she'd always found herself back in front of the fireplace after a few minutes. It was at least starting to get lighter outside, which let her know that she'd spent entirely too much time where she'd been sitting, so Santana got up and moved to the kitchen.

Her body still ached something fierce, but it was already feeling a fair bit better. She'd been stretching during her little all night soul-searching session, and that seemed to have helped. Her tired eyes caught sight of the oven clock, finding that it was half past seven, which only set her body into a state of voracious hunger. It had been nearly twenty four hours since she'd last eaten, Santana realized quickly, so she figured since Quinn hadn't been as hospitable as a Stepford wife, that she'd get food for herself.

The fridge and freezer weren't heavily stocked, and thanks to the cool temperatures, everything seemed totally fine. Still, she wasn't about to take any chances on letting the good stuff go bad, so she pulled out a package of bacon and some eggs. Most didn't see her as the type, but she liked to camp sometimes, and those were the precious few times she'd been free of the wrath of Coach Sue. Which, of course, meant that she'd have the chance to make excuses for eating the worst, most fatty and delicious foods, like bacon and eggs. And maybe, she'd kind of wanted to be able to make a certain blonde a nice breakfast if the girl had ever decided to join her. Santana eyed up the ingredients and pegged it at a fifty-fifty chance that she'd end up setting the cottage on fire, but a tasty breakfast was totally worth it. She took a moment to scour the kitchen for the final resource, only finding two paper bags that were usable, meaning the rest of the bacon would need to be made another way, or put back into the freezer.

It wasn't long after she got started cooking the bacon and eggs that she heard footsteps on the floor above her. Quinn was never much of an early riser, but the girl had a nose for bacon. It was almost as if it was some primal, instinctual need; she and Britt once managed to get Quinn to sleepwalk to the kitchen during a sleepover by making it. Even after they'd startled the girl out of her stupor, Quinn recovered ridiculously quickly and subsequently attacked the pile of bacon they'd made.

She listened as Quinn made her way down the stairs, footsteps stopping at the edge of the living room. "San? What are you doing?" she heard the blonde ask, her voice still groggy and dazed from her post-sleep state.

"I got hungry, so I'm making breakfast." She answered, keeping an eye on both bags of food hanging over the fire; both of her hands held them steady on pokers, keeping the bags of food at a nice, healthy height for cooking.

"But I smell bacon." Quinn noted curiously as she padded toward Santana, kneeling beside her. She watched the blonde bite her lip, her gaze locked intensely on the paper bags hanging over the fire. Santana wanted to laugh at how Quinn would sniff the air every once in a while, or how she was clearly antsy and impatient beside her, constantly shifting in how she was sitting. The girl's words didn't need a response, because she knew the blonde could smell bacon a mile away; Quinn just wasn't used to not being able to watch it cook, and not being able to tell when it'd be done, and that was apparently a sort of advanced torture by how the girl was squirming.

Santana couldn't help but smirk victoriously when she pulled the bags away from the fire and to the steel tray nearby, happy to have food to eat, and happy that her friend was acting normal again. Quinn immediately darted over to the other side of the tray, eyeing the bags hungrily, somehow having managed to get a fork in her hand, despite Santana having forgotten to bring some out from the kitchen. "One of these is mine, alright?" Santana warned, pointing at Quinn in warning before rushing off to the kitchen to grab a fork. She knew the deal; if Quinn managed to eat all of her own bacon before Santana returned, then she'd help herself to the other bag. Thankfully, Quinn was only two slices in when she got back.

"You're a bacon wizard, San. I didn't think this was possible." Quinn noted breathlessly as she absolutely devoured the bacon and eggs.

She laughed at the title, deciding to just silently accept it. If someone could wield magic through bacon, Quinn would know. "I learned it for when I'd go camping…I still prefer it all smoky and crispy, but this is good too. I know you didn't want your bacon to go to waste." Santana said, taking a bite of her egg, feeling a little bit better with food in her stomach. It felt kind of normal again just enjoying breakfast with Quinn. It was nice.

"I had a dream that I was the queen of the bacon kingdom, and Puck kept abducting all my bacon peasants before I could cook them and eat them. It was kind of depressing and strange." Quinn stated sadly, and it was all too ridiculous for Santana not to laugh at, almost snorting egg out of her nose at the girl's words. "Shut up! I…come on, it's not THAT funny!"

"You're such a tyrant, Q." she shook her head at the whole notion of freaking bacon peasants, and got back to her meal as soon as she calmed down enough to eat again, taking some more meds with it to stem the tide of pain that had been growing again. Santana smiled at how entirely content Quinn was as the girl finished her meal. "You know, those bacon peasants had families."

"Can you cook them up too? I'm still malevolent and hungry for bacon." Quinn said with a pout, and Santana almost got up and grabbed the rest of the pack that was sitting in the fridge. Because hey, bacon was delicious, and she was in a good mood and shit. She just wasn't sure how much Mama Fabray would enjoy bacon grease on the floor of the fireplace, now that she'd run out of bags.

"Sorry, no more paper bags, so no more bacon, Queen blondie." she noted as she stretched, deciding that since she'd eaten, it was time to head somewhere comfy and let it digest. Santana lazily walked over to the loveseat and flopped down onto it.

She was face-down on the cushions, so she could only listen as Quinn's footsteps grew closer, the girl seeming to pick the armchair by her feet given the slight squeak of the leather recliner. "You sleep well?"

"Didn't." she grumbled out, arms reaching for a cushion, blanket or something, but found nothing of use. Her annoyed huff didn't seem to bring her any sympathy from Quinn, who laughed airily and placed a cushion on the back of her calves, entirely out of reach. "Q…" she whined, trying to use her legs to move it within reaching distance, but they were sore, and she was sluggish, so it fell to the floor.

"San, you're so pathetic when you're tired." And while the humour in Quinn's voice was nice to hear, it also sucked to hear that the truth was out. Santana was a total pathetic grump of a person when she was sleepy. "I'm sorry you couldn't sleep. It…it was probably really cold down here last night."

And just like that, the mood shifted, and Santana wished she was somewhere else, where she didn't have to confront the jolly pink and purple elephant in the room. "Could've kept me company, Q." she shot back, though she kept her tone as soft as possible. She didn't blame the girl for telling the truth or whatever, it just sucked because it was so stupidly confusing, and the blonde didn't stick around to help her understand.

"We both know you didn't want that." Quinn said immediately, and all Santana could do was groan as she turned herself over; her shoulder was feeling less tender, but it still stung pretty seriously.

"Actually, it sounds like both of us missed the boat on shit, Q. I needed you down here last night, because I thought you were straight, and I couldn't sleep until I went through every scrap of my memory for any freaking sign, okay?" she spoke calmly, eyes closed in an attempt to not lash out or say anything stupid, because she was kind of pissed for being left to think by herself, when the blonde knew all too well that she was really bad at handling that. It was a big reason why she always took so freaking long to come to terms with major shit in her life; she couldn't talk to Britt about her feelings for her, and there weren't any lesbian role models to go to, so she'd dealt with it on her own and that had taken forever. When her parents had divorced, she'd gone to Quinn, because she needed her as a sounding board, to help keep her thoughts organized and everything. She was admittedly horrible at thinking things through when it came to herself, so it had made for a long, tiring, difficult night after Quinn had left for bed.

The room was quiet for longer than Santana expected, though she could heard the blonde breathing, along with the odd hum or intake of breath that didn't lead to any statements. "Britt told me you wouldn't talk to her about any of that so I just figured…" Quinn finally broke the silence after a few awkward minutes, and Santana couldn't help but be relieved, because like hell if she was just going to talk without some back and forth shit. She wasn't Rachel Berry, Santana didn't ramble. She ranted. There was a difference, and she always needed someone to yell or talk back to her.

She waited for the blonde to continue, but after a few seconds it became clear she'd have to take matters into her own hands again. "I was in love with Britt. It's been a long time since I was in love with you, Q, so right now, I'm just stuck with the idea of you swinging for the home team." She noted, raising a hand as she heard Quinn about to respond to her. "No, don't fucking speak yet, okay? You know I'm like the least rational, most cowardly thinker there is, and you left me down here with questions that had answers that didn't make sense. It was like going to an exam review session and instead of prepping for history like I expected, it was all calculus, and I haven't taken calculus all year and I was pissed. I needed you. "

"Why is it so impossible to believe I like you?" Quinn asked, and Santana had to scoot backward and sit up against the armrest, needing to look at Quinn for this.

"Because I flirted with you like a damn succubus and you never batted an eyelash!" Santana stated exasperatedly, deciding a little dramatic arm waving would be good to show the girl how frustrating that had been.

Quinn just looked back at her in confusion, her mouth gaping slightly as her head slowly cocked to the left in a gesture Santana knew as disbelief. Which Santana thought was fucking ridiculous because she hadn't been subtle at all. "What? When?"

"When you came back from cheer camp? For practically half of our freshman year? Remember I'd compliment the heck out of your legs? How at our first major party, I did a tequila shot off them and felt you up? Or maybe, when you strained your leg in that practice a week before state…remember when I helped you shower and I always let the loofah linger in spots, or make a few extra rounds on places I'd already washed. Fucking hell, I must have told you that you were hot, like…a million times, and all I'd get from you was this appreciative little smile, and that was awesome but seriously." She ranted, but Quinn only seemed more confused, her facial expression constantly shifting as if she were reliving some of those moments, occasionally blushing in spots.

"I just…I thought that was just for show…you flirted with everyone, San." Quinn retorted, and the girl had a point, kind of. Only partially, really, because she didn't flirt with everyone.

"I flirted with all the guys because I was supposed to, but girls? Just you and Britt." Santana clarified, which seemed to help the blonde understand somewhat, though the girl fixed her with a questioning stare.

Quinn took a few moments of unnerving staring to formulate a response, which kind of sucked, but she knew that the blonde sometimes took her time to choose her words, something Santana rarely took the time to do. "Because you loved Britt, but…why me if you thought I was straight?"

"Britt was the only other girl who looked interested. That's it, so I flirted with her. And like I said last night, I didn't want to lose you. You came back from camp this changed, new person, and I did everything I could to keep you by my side." She answered, drawing a slow nod from Quinn, who was watching intently, looking a bit apprehensive. "You said I've never looked at you like I did with Britt, but that's bull, Q. I fell in love with you two months into grade four…you were my girl, my Lucy Q. I only looked at Britt like that when I got over you." She finished sheepishly, drawing her knees closer to her chest so that she could hug them. Because fuck it, she kind of wanted to hug something, and the cushion was too far away.

"You loved me?" Quinn choked out, fresh tears rolling down her cheeks, and fuck she didn't want the girl to cry. Seriously, she could never handle seeing Quinn cry, it was just too hard on her heart.

She gave the blonde an apologetic look, and thankfully, the girl at least stopped from spiraling into a sob-fest. "That's why you changing into Quinn scared me, because I fell in love with Lucy, and I knew I probably didn't have a chance with her, but Quinn? I saw a girl that all the boys would devour if you only let them, so I had to compete. So I flirted the fuck out of you, and nothing worked." She explained, holding back her own emotion as memories of freshman year came back to her. Getting over Quinn wasn't an easy task, considering how they were both in Cheerios, so she'd had to be innovative. "So I chased Britt because she was interested in experimenting, I fucked a few guys who couldn't hold a candle to when I'd sit on my bed and think of you, all to try and piss you off and spite you…and I bitched you out whenever I couldn't take being around you, which wound up being most of the time. So excuse me for trying to move on and find some fucking happiness, Quinn. I'm sorry that you only missed me when I was gone…I really am, okay? But I saw you. I looked at you THAT WAY for years. You were fucking special enough for me, and you're right…Britt didn't care enough, but you never knew even after years of me saying everything but a select few words."

Santana took a few calming breaths after her outburst, keeping her eyes focused on the hands resting on her lap. She could hear Quinn's quiet sobs resurface and spill out. Somewhere along the line, she couldn't help but compare the blonde to Finn in a way, and how the boy only seemed to want what he couldn't have. Santana cringed at the thought of Quinn being like that, knowing the girl's history of being told she wasn't good enough, and her history of getting things to 'fix' herself, of hiding behind her faith and image. She didn't want to be a band-aid over the girl's heart just because they stopped being BFFs. In a way, Santana was thankful that the blonde hadn't acted on her flirting back then, because it seemed that Quinn needed a proverbial kick in the ass to get to realizing what she really wanted.

"Oh God…" Quinn gasped out between sobs, and Santana couldn't help but lift her gaze toward the blonde, who was about as upset as she'd ever seen her. The girl kept repeating that phrase as she cried, and it became clear that Quinn wasn't in any state to say anything else.

"Get your ivory ass over here, Q." she called out, not at all unkindly, but perhaps not as soft and soothing as the blonde may have liked. Quinn's bloodshot eyes shot open and met her gaze, the girl's face looking entirely apprehensive, even if her body was practically screaming 'hug me'. Santana opened her arms and gestured with them for Quinn to join her.

Like a bat out of hell, Quinn shot off the recliner and practically leapt onto her, hands immediately clutching onto the front of her sweater as the blonde cried into her chest. It wasn't exactly Santana's first choice of scenario where the blonde would bury her pretty little head into her breasts, but she'd take what she could get, she supposed, one arm wrapping around Quinn's waist as the other held the girl's head close. It was nice to have that closeness back; Santana had missed that over the past years.

Santana did her best to calm her friend, whispering sweet, reassuring words into her ear, lightly rubbing the small of her back, that sort of stuff. But honestly, she still kind of sucked at it, and Quinn was still crying minutes later, even if it was a little softer. "Q, if I tell you a way to cook the rest of the bacon, will that make you happier? You know I get all sad and awkward when you're upset, and I don't want you to be upset. I want you to be happy, and bacon makes you happy, right?"

The blonde nodded hesitantly against her chest, and Santana could tell the girl was trying really hard to stifle her sobs, hiccuping and everything like she was. "Yeah, but…you make me happy too. I am hungry, though…"

Santana laughed at the girl's voracious appetite for bacon and slipped her hand under the girl's chin, lifting it from her chest so that she could see Quinn's hazel eyes in the wintery morning light. "So how about this then. We're trapped in here, right? No power, snow surrounding everything?" Santana asked, earning a slight nod from the blonde, who pushed herself off Santana and moved to straddle her thighs. "Well, I'm sleepy, and feeling kind of a bit better about all this right now. So…I mean, if it's alright with you…and sorry if this sounds totally backwards and everything…"

"San, spit it out, please. You're making me nervous." the girl spoke worriedly, Quinn's hazel orbs looking at her in earnest concern.

"I…I was wondering if you could go on a date with me? I mean, we've got candles, and food, and we still probably…" Santana started, but was quickly interrupted by Quinn's arms pulling her into a tight, suffocating hug. She winced a bit at the ripple of pain that erupted from her shoulder; thankfully Quinn seemed to notice her body tense in pain, quickly pulling away, her face red from blushing.

"I'd love to, San." Quinn noted softly, her adoring stare almost too much for Santana to take. It was so ridiculously weird to even consider dating Quinn, but they were both single, and they'd both liked each other a lot at one point.

Santana just needed to know if she could love Quinn as much as she loved Lucy. Luckily, they were stranded for a while, and had plenty of time. And at least twelve more strips of bacon.

* * *

**A/N: Well, this kind of grew to great lengths. I kind of wanted to run with a semi-reciprocal Quinntana story, where nothing's really settled by the end of it. Kind of inspired by a friend of mine who was kind of like Quinn here (whose BFF was in love with her for years, and she only realized she felt similarly once her BFF finally moved on, except their sexualities were both known at the time, and people used to tease her about her and her BFF's 'relationship'.)**

**Wrote this in sections over the past few days. Hope you enjoyed!**


	21. Prank

_50 Words in 30 Days:_ **#37 Prank  
A/N: Continuation of 'Invisible'**

* * *

Halloween had long been one of Santana's favourite holidays. She had always loved dressing up, and having one day where she could go crazy was all that young Santana Lopez could have asked for. It was almost like a second birthday, given the ability to wear any costume and all the candy she'd rake in.

The previous year's Halloween was the first she'd ever missed, spending it moping as a living invisible woman. Honestly, she planned on making this one a great one, to make up for the mishap last year. Sadly, it seemed that Halloween was one of the few things that Rachel Berry was insistent on being a party pooper. Seriously, nearly all of her ideas had been nixed by the diva, because apparently they were too scary or dangerous. Whatever.

So there she was on all hallow's eve, sitting beside Rachel, who was totally done up as Elphaba; any kids who happened to knock on their door got something of a trick and a treat, though Santana wasn't too pleased that she was the one doing all the work. _Seriously, Berry just sits on her chair while I dramatically lift candies out of her pumpkin bowl and toss them at the kids when she makes her hand gestures. How lazy is she? The least she could have done was let me do something riskier if she had to sit there and be a jerk...seriously..._

Either way, despite the bit of a lame first attempt at using her invisibility for the powers of good, she'd been having a decent night. The kids loved their little trick, the parents were baffled by it, and she was just happy to feel included and needed for something. They had been just over two hours into their routine when Rachel's phone rang.

She watched the diva scamper over to the kitchen table where they'd left it, out of the view of children, so it wouldn't break the illusion of course. Not that Santana felt the apartment was incredibly witch-like, but it was suitable. Reasonable.

"Rachel Berry speaking, may I ask who's calling?" Her friend spoke, putting the phone to her ear as Santana sat back and watched in silence, Rachel's eyes widening slowly with each passing second. For a moment, she thought it was some creepy prankster, but the slow smile on the diva's face eventually let her know that it was a good phone call. "Yes, Kurt, I just...I have a friend over right now, and she's not really up for that sort of scene." Rachel continued after a few seconds, her voice trailing off hesitantly.

Now, Santana was a lot of things, but she wasn't an idiot. Kurt hadn't talked to Rachel since she'd moved into the apartment, so whatever he was inviting her to was probably some sort of fancy party at his Vogue fortress or whatever. Which, obviously, was something big and important that Rachel needed to attend.

"Rachel, you're not turning down a chance at socializing with fucking elites just to spend time with me. Go shine your star, or whatever... just not in that costume, probably." Santana whispered harshly to the diva, who looked on in concern silently. Santana hoped that Rachel was listening to Porcelain speak, and wasn't contemplating anything, because it was a done deal. Rachel would leave and go to her first big girl party.

"Okay, Kurt...yeah, she understands, I can come. Okay...okay...thank you for the invitation, I'll be sure to arrive within the hour. Bye!" Rachel spoke into the phone, and Santana couldn't help but grin; it was Rachel's first big event, and she was excited for the diva. As soon as the girl hung up, she was immediately flashed with a sad frown. One that honestly shouldn't have been given, considering the circumstances. "I feel really bad for ditching you, San."

"Hey, it's cool. I want you to learn the ropes out there, figure out how to socialize and shit. You need to take this opportunity...just hassle the hell out of Kurt for taking this long to call you. Seriously, that boy..." Santana started, but a wave of Rachel's hand and raised eyebrows cut her off.

"I'll take care of Kurt...I know you've been frustrated about him lately, and rightfully so. I'll pass on your grievances." Rachel stated confidently, which put Santana at ease; she just wanted people to respect the girl, and considering how Berry was always the glue that held glee together, it just didn't feel right that she was so alone in New York with Kurt so close by. Even Quinn had been around twice to visit, and she lived over an hour and a half away.

It didn't take long to clean Rachel up for the party; it was formal, no costumes, so Santana had helped clean the makeup off while the diva styled her own hair and applied a decent smoky eye that Santana had taught her. They worked quickly, and before she knew it, Rachel had stepped out the door.

It was a little sad. Santana had been looking forward to a big Halloween night, but her plans had been limited by her accomplice, and her accomplice had soon left the building at quarter past eight. It wasn't as if being alone was some foreign thing to her, but she hadn't planned on being alone on Halloween. That was supposed to have been their lone evening together over a two week span, what with Rachel's increasingly hectic schedule going nuts with the addition of two off-Broadway auditions and some mid-term performances to prep for.

So she went and put a sign on the door claiming they were out of candy, she cleaned up the decorations, and she turned out the lights in preparation for a quiet night. It was weird, but she felt a little more at home in the dark; like, if someone were in the same room with her, they could maybe hold a short conversation, and the other person wouldn't expect to be able to see her. It would just be too dark to, so her invisibility wouldn't be such a handicap. Sure, it wasn't the best reason for being comfortable in the dark, but at least she wasn't some broody, super angsty teenager who felt at home in it because darkness was a metaphor for how dark her soul was or whatever.

Because really, she was doing alright. The past few weeks had been more than Santana could have hoped for, and it was amazing to have a friend again. A real friend that she could have conversations with, and watch movies and television with, or whatever. Having that human contact back in her life was just an incredible feeling, and while it was great, she couldn't help but feel a little fucked up about it. Because she got used to being lonely at first, but now that she had someone, the reality of her situation just kept biting at her ass, making her feel smaller and even more invisible.

The fact was that Rachel would be invited to a lot of places in the future, and she wouldn't be able to safely go with her. Rachel's freedom was a constant reminder of what she'd never have again, and while she'd kind of somewhat come to terms with that, and was trying to help the diva and make the best of the situation, it was a really, really tough pill to swallow. It was sad. Maybe, like 'a few self-pitying tears' kind of sad, in theory. Definitely not something she knew from first hand fucking experience or whatever.

It didn't take long to clean everything up, and Santana wasn't really in the mood for fun anymore, so she just sat back on the recliner, tossed on her e-reader, and got to work on the music theory tome she'd been tackling lately. It helped her toward her somewhat limited career aspirations, and it was an engaging read. So engaging that it barely felt like an hour had passed when Rachel returned to the apartment with a man in tow, from what she could tell by his voice.

Curious, she watched the two filter into the apartment, Rachel looking a little tipsy while the guy seemed pretty sober. Outside of Quinn and one of the diva's dance partners for some assignment, it was Rachel's first guest, and certainly her first impromptu social visit. Santana was kind of excited about it, if she were to be honest, because the diva had clearly done something right to get attention. Besides, she knew that Rachel got lonely, and that her company wasn't exactly ideal or anything, given the circumstances. She figured it'd be good for Berry to make new friends.

Deciding to let the diva handle it, she returned to her tome as the two sat in the kitchen making iidle chit-chat over a late, small dinner. However, when Rachel announced it was vegan, Santana spotted the guy cringe a bit once the diva's back was turned. She smirked, understanding the reaction; she loved her meat, but she'd already imposed on Rachel enough, and had taken the vegan plunge merely out of convenience and respect. The man had no such commitment, so she didn't envy him at all for dipping a toe into those untasty waters.

The pair's banter occasionally filtered into her ears over the next hour or so, but she pushed most of it out of her mind, at least until one fairly patronizing remark brought her attention to the kitchen table. "You're a freshman, doll, when you get to where we seniors are, you'll understand how it works. I'm sure you'll do your best, but you'll still probably fail." The man noted, and Santana went from zero to a hundred on her 'seething mad' scale, because no one talked down to her Berry awesome friend, especially if they're being so patronizing and reek of condescension.

"I'd like to think that talent doesn't necessarily cap by age or education level. I'm a better singer than some seniors, certainly, and my acting and dancing abilities are improving quickly..." Rachel started rambling and making sense, but went silent when the man shushed her. Seriously, Santana almost gasped at the gall he had to freaking shush Rachel Berry. She couldn't believe that he'd been clearly mean to Rachel, and the diva hadn't even seemed to notice. Through high school, the girl always bit back in some way, always acknowledged the remarks and kept her head held high, but Santana didn't see that girl anywhere in the apartment, and it was really frustrating.

"That's all well and good, and like I said, you'll do your best...but your nose is going to hold you back. Not saying it's a bad nose, but the girls that make it through have smaller ones, or they get surgery, and producers fall in love with them. I'm a senior, I've seen it for four years now, and I'm sorry, but that's how it is. But hey, you have talent, so you're not hopeless. You just need some corrections...and I know you're green so I'll even help you out, alright?" the man said slowly, as if he were speaking to a goddamn child, and the way he said 'corrections' totally gave her the creeper alert. She was certain that if Rachel needed help, she didn't need it from that guy. And when she just saw Rachel nod sadly after his remark, Santana got to her feet and walked into the bathroom, needing a bit of space to think. Often, as a young girl, she'd use the bathtub and pretend it was a space-ship, so she could just get away from what was bothering her, so she could calm down and eventually focus. Santana didn't need to pretend anymore, but it still had a calming effect on her that she happily took advantage of in that moment.

At least, until he asked Rachel where the bathroom was. It was then that Santana threw all caution to the wind and jumped into action, recalling every feature of the man that she'd been able to notice. Knowing that he'd seemed quite well groomed, a plan quickly fell into place, admittedly one she'd conjured up weeks before in case of the event that Finn showed up.

She was just reaching for her tactical enema when the man walked in and promptly sat in the toilet, tossing his pants and boxers down in one fell swoop. It was almost impressive, considering he had a belt too. "Fucking bitch can't shut the fuck up. I didn't come here for coffee...I know she's a country bumpkin, but is she really that stupid to think I'd be here if I didn't think I'd be banging her tonight?" the guy muttered in annoyance as he squeezed out a particularly juicy shit. Which immediately changed her plans for the better, because Berry was not going to be some notch on that creep's proverbial bedpost or whatever. _Besides, I have coffee every morning with Rachel, and it's actually fucking alright...the girl's a little loopy when she's half asleep, and it's hilarious!_

And miraculously, just as a new plan came to mind, his attention shifted to his phone, immediately focused on texting someone. With him momentarily distracted, she quickly switched the hand cream with Rachel's bottle of 'Pink' silicone-based lube, a gift she'd given the diva one night after the girl had endured a frustrating dancing class. Surprisingly, though, as she held it up, it was clear that it wasn't full, which only made Santana smile wider. The man seemed to be the type to moisturize his hands after washing them, so she hoped it would do the trick of humiliating the shit out of him. Not to leave things to chance, though, she pumped a small, careful amount and stealthily moved toward the man. Slowly, with her eyes fully trained on the texting imbecile before her, she knelt and smeared the glob onto the inside of the man's pants, putting it there instead of in his boxers so that maybe he wouldn't notice until Rachel did..

Knowing that she'd burst into laughter at any moment, she quickly moved into the bathtub, waiting for the man to fall into her trap. Santana kind of wished she knew his name, but it didn't matter anymore. If all went well enough, the only thing Rachel would remember about him was that he smothered himself in lube.

Eventually, the guy put his phone away, made quick work of wiping his pasty, ill-proportioned tush, and flushed. She was kind of sad when he didn't immediately flinch upon pulling his pants and everything up. In a way, she kind of wanted him to freak out that, scrape it off with his hands, and then go to wash them, only to be confronted with more lube. Instead, he simply went and washed his hands, using the soap first, then rinsing, before finally pumping a glorious bit of lube onto his hands.

He only made it about a half a second into rubbing his hands together before realizing something was terribly wrong; or, well, terribly right if he was in Santana's shoes. She watched as he visibly began to panic, muttering expletives at a furious pace, trying to rinse the lube off his slick, water-proofed hands. When he rushed over to the towels to try and wipe it all off, Santana took the opportunity to swap the hand cream and lube back, giving herself full deniability. Well, maybe not, but it was as close as she was likely to ever get.

And, of course, she smiled giddily like a kid on Christmas when Rachel called out for him and knocked on the bathroom door, asking if he was alright. That was a kind of weirdly endearing thing about the diva; she seemed to think that if someone ever took longer than five minutes in a washroom and wasn't bathing that they were maybe in trouble. It had been somewhat annoying in the past, at times, but she grew to like the attention, and certainly loved the fact that Berry had him trapped.

"Everything's f...fine! I'm just washing my hands!" the guy yelled out abruptly, and for a NYADA senior, his composure and acting abilities seemed entirely sub-par, his delivery entirely unconvincing.

"You don't sound fine, Marcus. I'm coming in, okay?" Rachel announced, her concern entirely wasted on the creep who was furiously wiping his hands off on the towels to no avail. Which Rachel caught him doing as soon as she opened the door, freezing the diva in her tracks.

Santana really did a legendary job at stifling her laughter, because the two people in front of her, both frozen in place and staring at each other with mouths agape, were absolutely hilarious. From her vantage point, Santana knew that as Rachel's eyes slowly scanned him over, she'd be able to see the stain in his pants from the lube. When the diva's eyes lock down on the guy's groin, a small confused frown curling at her lips, Santana knew she was victorious.

"Why are you rubbing your hands all over my towels? Wait...why are your hands all shiny?" Rachel asked, clearly confused, but still not tearing her increasingly bewildered gaze away from the first of Santana's pranks.

She watched the man as he looked down at his crotch, and then to his hands, and finally up to Rachel. Now, Santana figured that Rachel probably knew she was in there with her, but when the guy exploded in anger and marched into her personal space, it became clear that the diva was kind of scared either way, and that wouldn't do. "Are you such a slut that you keep your lube by your fucking sink?!" he yelled, prompting Santana to lift the diva's travel-size hair dryer behind him, letting Rachel know that she had her back. Rachel's features schooled instantly, and Santana couldn't have been more proud, knowing that Berry already trusted her so much.

"Why would you be touching my personal lubrication in the first place?" her flat-mate requested succinctly, cocking her hip in a show of scrutiny.

"I'm not the kind of man to want or need lube!" he insisted loudly, and the small laugh out of Rachel was probably the best thing she'd heard all night.

"Well, you either ejaculated in your pants, or urinated in them, and certainly at this point, you'd need to use lube with me because your actions aren't helping my body get appropriately prepared." Rachel stated coldly, glaring back at him with just a hint of a menacing smirk. "In case you don't understand, I'm not hot for you, and that lube's the closest thing to satisfaction from me that you'll be getting tonight. Now leave, before you embarrass yourself further."

He gave an angry grunt, and shifted forward a bit, but ultimately performed a rather impeccable diva storm-out. Santana turned her gaze from the now closed front door to the diva who was shaking her head in apparent disbelief. Santana felt a little bit guilty for the night ending the way it did, but she knew it wasn't entirely her fault; the guy would have done something to make the ending pretty damn sub-par on his own, she was sure. Even if Rachel deserved better, it just didn't seem to be in the cards that night, and she wasn't surprised when Rachel wordlessly retreated into her room.

It was the one place Santana knew to never enter without explicit permission; she knew the girl needed a safe space of her own, a place to think and exist without any outside pressures. She just hoped that Rachel wasn't too disappointed with how the night turned out. For a night that was supposed to be awesome and fun for the both of them, it certainly did take a turn for the worst somewhere along the way.

Santana found her way to the living room couch and her e-reader, and about an hour later, Rachel emerged from the bedroom and joined her, plopping down just to the right of her.

"Did you switch the hand soap with my Pink lube?" her friend asked softly, staring blankly at the powered down TV across from her.

It was a simple question, deserving a simple answer. "No. I swapped the hand cream with the lube."

Rachel let out an annoyed huff and leaned back into the couch. "You shouldn't have done that. He was the first person with Broadway connections I've met, aside from Brody." Rachel grumbled, crossing her arms in protest.

"He was a creep, he was mean to you, and he was totally griping about you in the washroom, groaning about how you were too stupid to realize he was just there for some poon." Santana answered, sighing when Rachel's face fell and her arms fell to wrap around her stomach instead. "Hey, Rach...you have a big adorable diva heart, and he was just some horny creep-star. You look for the best in people, and he looks for...something pretty different. You're not stupid for wanting to chat him up all legit-like."

Rachel's frown didn't dissipate, but she did lean a little into Santana, which was enough for her to know that they were okay. "Is that why you switched them?"

"Well, I was just going to slip an enema into his pocket and make it look like he peed his pants, but then he started talking shit and...well, you saw." Santana smiled sheepishly as Rachel started to erupt in giggles, simply happy to see that maybe she'd done something to help lift the diva's mood.

"Santana!" Rachel blurted out between laughs, her arms clutching her stomach as if they could contain the humour inside her. "You're so mean!"

"All true, I'm afraid, but only to those who deserve it these days." She noted with a sly smile, watching cheerfully as her friend regained composure slowly. It was always nice to get Rachel laughing; with how rigorous the girl's schedule was, there was rarely ever any time for fun, so she savoured any stolen moment like that.

"I'm sorry for bringing him over. I should have asked first or something. I just thought that..." Rachel started, but Santana wasn't up to hearing Berry blame herself, so she went to work at mussing her hair up, immediately halting the girl's words in her throat.

"Don't apologize! I was fine sitting in the corner and reading until he started being a jerk to you." Santana interrupted, earning a perplexed expression that only worried her. She couldn't let Rachel be that vulnerable around every guy in New York; to quote Ned Stark, they'd come to a dangerous place. "He was talking down to you and used backhanded compliments, and you deserved better. That's why I stepped in...not that I have the right to decide anything for you, but I didn't like hearing him talk to you like that."

Rachel let out a hum of understanding before flopping down onto her side, partially onto Santana's lap. They both just rested there for a while until Santana realized that perhaps the douchebag wasn't the best topic to finish a conversation on."How was the party, anyway?"

"A learning experience. Kurt more or less avoided me in every way, and I felt really out of place. I...I doubt I'll ever feel like I belong in that sort of scene. I thought I was ready but...I just don't know anymore." Rachel's admission seemed pretty understandable, and Santana wished the party had gone better for her as well. It seemed to be a night of missed chances.

"You will...it's just that fashion nerds are different than theatre nerds, and not all fancy parties are the same. I mean, look at the Cheerios and the jocks...both popular, but really different, especially in their own specific parties. When you go to a Broadway after-party, surrounded by your theatre geek friends, you'll wonder how you ever thought you didn't fit in, okay?" she rambled, hoping her words were at least a little reassuring. Santana knew that Rachel didn't have much experience in parties, so it might have been lost on her, but she knew it to be true. Parties were about the people involved, and how they were related. Rachel wasn't related to fashion moguls, and those weren't her people, so of course she'd feel out of place a bit.

"I just wish I stayed home." Rachel mumbled as she got comfy, resting her arm and head on Santana's thighs.

Those six words kind of made Santana's heart swell, because hell, they would have had an awesome night together. To hear that Rachel would give up such a valuable, if potentially scarring, learning experience was kind of huge. Deciding that the diva could use some comforting, she started running her hand through the girl's wavy brown locks, earning a pleased smile from her friend. "There's still time left to watch 'It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown', if you want to." She said softly, hoping that they could continue to salvage the night, despite the late hour.

A brief nod had Santana reaching for the remote, turning on the holiday special that she'd watched annually since she was a child. Seriously, it was pretty awesome, and it wasn't as if Britt and Quinn hadn't been totes excited to watch it each year too.

Midway through the special, though, Rachel's relentless shifting and repositioning became impossible to ignore, the girl's quest to get comfy seemingly an impossible task. "What do you need, Rach? A pillow or something?" she asked, stilling the girl who was halfway resting on her lap.

"It's...nothing. Sorry for bothering you, Santana." Rachel squeaked, sitting up fully on the couch, looking entirely awkward and conflicted. Not that the diva's unconvincing delivery didn't seal the deal, but her body language was screaming that she was lying. Rachel had always been a horrible liar. Worst poker face in all of glee.

Santana cautiously reached out and took hold of one of Rachel's free hands. "What do you need? It's just me...don't be embarrassed." She stated, hoping that some of the girl's previous trust in her from the bathroom would carry over. It wasn't often that they talked about anything really serious, or did anything super abnormal or anything, so she was drawing a blank as to what was bugging her friend.

"It's just...it's been a while since anyone hugged me. My dads used to give me some every day, but the last one I got was from Quinn, and before that...was from my dads when they left me here." Santana frowned at how sad her friend sounded, and that frown morphed into a grimace as she realized she could have been doing that all along, and helping Rachel out.

In truth, she understood completely. It had been a really long time since anyone hugged her. "I know the feeling...but if you want one, I'm okay with it." She replied, trying to convey that she was ready and willing, but Rachel didn't seem convinced.

"You don't have to...I'd understand if you're not the type, or anything." Rachel mumbled, fiddling with the bracelet on her wrist nervously. It was kind of cute to see the girl so uncertain about asking for a hug.

"Me and Britt used to cuddle every Saturday morning while she watched cartoons. I kind of miss it too." Santana noted, feeling a little embarrassed about admitting that bit of information, but it seemed to relax Rachel enough for Santana to slide an arm around the girl's waist, pulling her closer and into a hug.

Rachel latched onto her, practically melting against her, and Santana could feel the tension just escape the girl's body. It was kind of wonderful. Almost as wonderful as when Rachel gently pushed away and guided Santana to lie down on the couch, the diva resting on top of her and tossing a blanket over them both. The show was almost over by then, but Santana was pretty okay with just laying there with Rachel for a bit. It was pretty damn nice. It felt pretty damn normal.

As the credits began to roll, Santana felt Rachel turn on top of her, their faces inches apart as Berry gazed in the direction of hers. The girl's brow knit as Berry slowly ran her hands up Santana's arms, then across her shoulders, and up her neck. She watched, spellbound as the diva focused so intensely on every little movement of her own fingers.

"What are you doing?" Santana asked warily, her voice much quieter than she'd planned on it being, her lungs too out of breath to really do much but whisper. Rachel didn't answer immediately, but instead let her fingers trace the outlines of Santana's features, each digit encountering every interesting and uninteresting bit of her face before they cupped her cheeks gently.

"Memorizing you." Rachel whispered in return, her gaze almost too intense to return; she wasn't sure what was going on in Berry's head, but whatever it was, she wasn't about to stop it. She knew it would only make the diva more curious, and she kind of enjoyed being touched and whatever. And maybe it was a little overwhelming and shit. And maybe she was having a hard time controlling her breathing.

"Why?" she asked in a shuddering break from her own tear-choked throat. Because honestly, she knew it was a fruitless endeavour. Her appearance would keep changing over the years, and any memory of her will be stuck in the past, never the present. That every memory had an expiration date, and most people that had been in her life only knew a Santana Lopez who was trapped in her teens, never changing. That maybe Rachel would be the only one to know her as she was, but even then, the girl would never see her. Hell, she'd never see herself, and it was hard to acknowledge.

"I don't want to forget you." Rachel stated seriously, which only earned the diva a laugh, something she didn't seem particularly pleased about. "I'm serious, because you would, Santana. You would let me forget."

She tucked a loose lock of hair behind the girl's ear, clearing her view of the diva's face. "Does it matter? I'm invisible, no one's going to see my face again, not even me, so what's the point? Is my voice not enough?"

"The point is that I have a good memory, and a great imagination, and I want to be able to touch you and see you. I want to be able to look at you and let my mind and memory fill in the blanks that my hands and ears couldn't on their own." Rachel insisted fervently with a passion that she hadn't heard since she'd accidentally caught Quinn ranting to herself about Beth. And honestly, she didn't know how to feel about that, or what to say.

Santana decided to take a moment to think, running a hand idly through Rachel's slightly tangled brown mop of hair. "I'm a little tired, I...think I should probably get to sleep." She stumbled out, not so subtly insinuating that maybe Rachel should go to bed too.

"Sleep sounds lovely, but I'm too cozy to move." Rachel mumbled, ducking her head down against Santana's chest.

It boggled her mind that Rachel would skip her nightly hygiene routine just because she was 'cozy'. It literally made zero sense, and she was pretty sure that Rachel was lying, but she didn't want to cause a scene and call her out on it. "You sure?" is all she could ask, feeling like a bit of a coward, and a little bit selfish; it wasn't as if she didn't like cuddling with Berry. The girl was really soft and comfortable, and she kind of didn't want her to leave either, even if she knew it'd probably be a better idea. Sure, it made her feel normal, a little bit, for Rachel to be doing that with her, because she used to cuddle and sleep with her friends all the time until probably tenth grade, and even then, she missed the fact that those events became less and less common.

But at the same time, she couldn't help but think she was leading herself down a road to heartbreak. She desperately didn't want to lose Rachel, and the longer she was around the diva, the more normal she felt. But the reality was that she wasn't normal, she couldn't BE normal for Rachel, and pretending to be just made her feel that it could lead to long term disaster. It wasn't fair for either of them to pretend. As if it couldn't be any clearer, the biggest prank of all was what had been done to her, and how she still kept getting tricked into thinking she could be as real as anyone else.

So she really should have told Rachel to leave. She kept thinking that long after Berry fell asleep on top of her. At least the night ended in Rachel smiling, for what it was worth. Santana just hoped that the investment would pay dividends instead of crashing down to earth like she feared it would.

* * *

**A/N: Wanted to get this out before the deadline :) I know some of you wanted more from the 'Invisible' story arc (#13) so here's some more stuff to read!**

**I hope your weekends were fantastic, and that you start your Monday off right! :D**


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